Oracle of OmahaNever Enough

Yeah. I was searching for a cheat code, a complex system hack, Trapped inside a labyrinth with no way of turning back. My prophets wore sharp suits and spoke in future-tense commands, But they built my whole foundation on a shifting bed of sand. The crash was not a whisper, it was a clarifying sound, A screech of burning metal as my theories hit the ground. I woke up in the wreckage, with a silence in my soul, And found a dusty paperback that claimed to make me whole. Heard a voice from the plains, simple and slow, Said, "The harvest only comes if you give the seeds time to grow." It ain't about the speed, son, it ain't about the hustle's art, It's about the patient rhythm of a calm and steady heart. He's buying up the railroads, the candy shops, the pop, While I was chasing phantom trends I thought would never stop. He's building out a castle with a moat a mile wide, I was just decorating prisons that I built for me inside. He says, "The best move is no move," just sit and watch the game, While I was burning all my energy just screaming out my name. It’s a different kind of currency, a different kind of wealth, It’s the quiet satisfaction of just knowing your own self. Heard a voice from the plains, simple and slow, Said, "The harvest only comes if you give the seeds time to grow." It ain't about the speed, son, it ain't about the hustle's art, It's about the patient rhythm of a calm and steady heart. So I'm selling all my paranoia... Trading my anxiety for grace... Learning that the only kingdom worth the building... Is the quiet of your own time... and your own space. Yeah. Finding my own pace. Yeah... that patient rhythm... Oh, a steady heart... Just let the seeds grow... Just let 'em grow...