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Lyrics
𝐶𝘰𝑚𝘮𝑒𝘯𝑡, 𝘓𝑖𝘬𝑒, 𝘚𝑢𝘣𝑠𝑐𝘳𝑖𝘣𝑒 🤝
𝑳𝙮𝕣𝘪𝚌𝐬 🎵🎵
“I, the Teacher, was king over Israel in Jerusalem. 🇮🇱
I applied my mind to study and to explore by wisdom all that is done under the heavens.
What a heavy burden God has laid on mankind.”
I was king over dust, now I sit on the throne of decay
Wisdom is heavy, but none of it shows me the way
Studied the pain, studied the grief, studied the ways of the weak
Learned that the world don’t owe you a thing, so I don’t even speak
I saw the cycles, I saw the rise, I saw the fall
Men build empires of gold, only to burn it all
What is straight won’t bend, what is broken stays
What is lacking can’t be counted, what is lost just fades
“I have seen all the things that are done under the sun;
all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind.”
Chasing the wind, running in vain
Nothing is straight, it’s all crooked remains
More that I learn, the deeper the pain
Knowledge is grief, got it burning my brain
I walked through fire just to drown in the tide
Tried to find meaning, but meaning had died
I reached for the heavens, they laughed in my face
Now I know wisdom is just a disgrace
I saw the rulers, I saw the sheep
Saw the blood run deep in the streets
Fools keep laughing, wise men weep
But both get buried in six feet deep
“Then I applied myself to the understanding of wisdom, and also of madness and folly,
but I learned that this, too, is a chasing after the wind.”
Crooked stays crooked, the truth don’t bend
I was born to lose, and I’ll lose again
Time keeps moving, but it ain’t my friend
And wisdom don’t save, it just marks the end
Chasing the wind, running in vain
Nothing is straight, it’s all crooked remains
More that I learn, the deeper the pain
Knowledge is grief, got it burning my brain
“For with much wisdom comes much sorrow;
the more knowledge, the more grief.”
— Ecclesiastes 11:18
The idea#
Ecclesiastes enters like a cold guest and never leaves. Kingship over dust, wisdom that “don’t show me the way,” empires of gold burned for nothing—the rap voice studies grief as if scholarship itself were a curse. “Chasing the wind” is not metaphor for busyness; it is the verdict on meaning after meaning has been tried and found empty.
Knowledge deepens the wound: “the more that I learn, the deeper the pain.” Fools laugh, wise men weep, both end in six feet. Aggressive, driving delivery suits a teacher who has become prophet of futility—cadence as hammer on the same nail. One can hear pride still flickering under the despair (the throne of decay is still a throne), yet the refrain offers no escape hatch. Wisdom does not save; it “marks the end,” and the beat keeps running after air.
