a myth, a false line of approach
Ad vance or we diss you,
dance roaches
Scattered from light in the pants
Run round like a record
Intercepted from dim tunnels
into some spectrums
No pro spects, as sure as death in
Texas
Fertile on charred surfaces burst
Megahertz, what not's worse?
Me on the sidelines, are you up first?
Nothing of that insipid
rips a ri gid regular
Vernacular, spectacular on asses,
sound in suspending color
But other than smoldering matrix
Link control panel to
channel the frustrated
We rebel in the decapitated,
captive with beggars
Since the year 95, when
MC became a dirty word
Chivalry, the coat on the palm
walks all over your purpose
Would we sell out if
mass abundance
Came out their pockets,
lined up the corner
to purchase?
Perhaps if only for the far set
price an d their lack of vindication
Many play messenger,
so use discretion
Relapse is winning just to
look who's running
in a race standing still
These words are all I have to offer
The author lost in his
thoughts and walking
New
Yorker
Covered in ash behind the crash
With an open gash I stagger
Behind every island there's a dagger
The antagonist never agonizes
Compulsive, they set him with a voltage
It was repulsive, the vultures
Fighting impulses and missing posters
Are you sure what you're fighting for?
War with a cinematic score
The crimes bore a painful
repercussion
Blows, crushing, dust and debris
Us and the we, plus it doesn't matter
Cause the symptoms show much later
In the greater scheme of things
The things that seemed
most important
Aren't what they warranted
Tormented screams make the
extremes seem unreal
I'm walking through
an open mausoleum
And seeing the frames peeled
I
I arise, out the disguise of
a kabuki dancer
Flying from the ceiling to
the stage in front
of your eyes
Calm with a prize, breathing,
conceiving reason
from seasons
Days of equations I made in the maze,
I laid
to a page that turns into sage guides my
ways out a cave that meets with the sun
i slide on my shades beats pop like grenades
and since priests mentioned the tragic day
i say they pop like aks overseas in a desert
breeze hiding in trees trying to find keys for
the heaties and the hoos while me and my crews
burn a bit getting back to life making shit sick
alpha hitchcock back with a twist then pitch wobble
wobble strike throw up your mix everybody
give it up with a pump of the fist but we talk about the
gift don't switch game lock your click
This is just song shit