Dalek

... From Mole Hills

Dalek


Basic blocks to breath topple under bare bleeding feet 
Wince at stabbing pain in left lobe as mighty sword's unsheathed 
Source of all life lies in East, the source of all life lies in East. 
Feel the rumble of them bombed trains, third railed from beneath 
I walk with tattered scrolls on these ill lonely streets 
Babble last true tongue, could give a fuck where you from 
Travel torn path, swung as pendulum 
Now my thread of life's come undone 
Remember back when Uzi's weighed a ton? 
Now ever kid's got one. 
Dipped in platinum bathed in aggression 
Succumb to last temptation 
Lost all my patience 
Peace to last bastion: 
Afrika... Zulu nation. 
Lyrics laced with oils from inner works of mental reservoir 
The world in ill discord 
Pray to ancient ancestors 
Pray to ancient ancestors. 

Remember days of cardboard, fat lace, and krylon? 
Microphones and twelves, tools we all relied on 
Niggas dropped a verse, the thought was one to die on 
I remember hip hop, that's my Mt. Zion. 

Bygones be bygones so many souls wore thin 
My world lies in famine, I wander with kinsmen 
Through dismal slums of ignorance 
Wash my hands in pool of absolution 
Keep warm with torn blanket of revolution 
Quite useless shut one's eyes once realized 
You glide through this darkness 
Embark upon this, solom crusade to save the only gift our God gave 
The curse is manmade, designed to turn blessed to slaves 
Forgave the weak minded two weeks into journey 
Again travel untraveled road on scrapped knee 
Broke bread with those bums who taught speech 
In attempt to reach nirvana 
Ye of poor karma, 
None calmer in old age, young sage turn page on brittle text 
There's no time left 
What must I stress? 
Demons colorless, infest our own earth 
Immersed in tainted dirt 
Could never quite quench my own thirst for ancient drums 
There lies a language in the noise and the hum 
Prepare for martyrdom, prepare for martyrdom 
I speak that ancient tongue 
There lies a language in (the noise and the hum) 

Remember days of cardboard, fat lace, and krylon? 
Microphones and twelves, tools we all relied on 
Niggas dropped a verse, the thought was one to die on 
I remember hip hop, that's my Mt. Zion. 

Lost equilibrium, wish I fell to '85 
Verbal vagabond blessed for being blind 
Etched my paradigm in Sanskrit at age nine 
So why these kids swear to God I'm unrefined? 
Still swig from sacred liquid language 
Poor as fuck but seem to manage 
Non average urban savage 
You living lavish when this world is pure survival 
Best you hide in the corners of your mind for sitting idle 
Breathing air is vital, 
You pray to false idols 
No feelings in recitals when you only search for titles 
Feel so suicidal, but couldn't give you joy. 
Four elements of this only for the B-boys (B-girls)