The first thing you see is the light.    Then, you focus on a man in a mask with a knife    as he cuts you away from everything you thought you knew about life.    Now you're in your mother's arms, wrinkled and wet.    You'll spend the rest of your life trying to hard to forget    that you met the world naked and screaming    and that's how you'll leave it.      In Riverside Hospital, on a July morning,    with a push and a pull - this is how I found out    I wasn't quite so invulnerable.    It put the fear of God in me when I heard my daddy say, "one mistake is all that it takes."      I ended up at Central School, 1993,    and met a certain kid named Sarim at the library.    He said, "they're ain't nothing about this place that's elementary."    I learned to play the guitar in the seventh grade    in order to convince everyone I was a renegade.    That's when I learned, in Glen Rock,    everybody calls a spade a spade.    I couldn't fool anyone.    I couldn't even fool myself.    I was just another book on the shelf, nothing else.