Hazy clouds loom over urban landscape
Watch the broken man speak broken words that vibrate.
You can watch my people die at a high rate...
(They) Concerned with shiny things,
And thick ass hips that gyrate
I kept my mind straight for quarter century
As so-called Mc's spit rhymes from nurseries
It's irking me as I wander woeful path of poverty
How they eying me and have no respect for poetry
Pure anger keeps building internal,
Liquid language to manage my mental
Topple holy temples,
Await the brimstone with open arms
Bloody palms I smear on psalms to keep me calm
Fallen icons reborn on local access stations
Promise salvation for only $2.99
Turn water to wine
Give sight to the blind
But all in due time.... All in due time...
Fractured paradigm speaks in broken circles
Secular men, though wise,
Haven't digested verbals.
I gaze through glazed eyes that view me as indigent.
Innocence lost by last tribe of dirty life
My meaning's between my left lung and my mic
You listen too close to these rhymes I recite
Ignite thoughts in those thought gone
But a pawn who upset the whole scheme.
Message in morphine.
And or live?
And or die?
And or breath?
And or die?
I speak from soured milkcrates verses thrown to fate
Thought you could recognize what once were the breaks
Mindstate irrate as I wander aimlessly
One to the head could end this painlessly
Shamelessly I speak to self on street corners
Handed change as street performer
Coronors pack morgues like clubs
As kids pack their guns
Cause everyone wants to outshine the Sun
As night ends at dusk
Forgot which truth to trust
In midst of getting bent your iron will turns rust
Stand at cusp of changing earth
Remain amongst the dirt
Quench thirst with viscous red liquid
Reality shifted in different existence
Your fiction sells millions
My truth waits to die
I arrive with bloodshot eyes where I was never welcomed
Seldom speak in complete sentence
Thoughts kept condensed
Connect with essence of entire subculture
Physical still tortured
Mental nurtured in nocturne
I watch them watch me out of corner of eye
Pupils dilate
I speak ancient daleks
Emote traits of my forefathers
Travel further back to days of drums
When chants spoken not sung
Heavily hung
Upon ancient tounge.
And or live?
And or die?
And or breath?
And or die?
