When it comes.... It is said... that we
will al be slaves.... until were
dead.... its like static.. struggling over
frantic..... fall into somthing
democratic...
in the end were all
puppets.. but you wont get off calling us
muppets.... my style is like a switchblade
pocket... come out of the blue like a
rocket... singing to a spooky tune, no
techno hard shit like lunes. this is the
street wise hard off the beat comin from
the underground to the street better not
lose it trying to keep up with my sheet
music my own virgin skys my commands make
you wanna die spray in bright day over what
you might say my words hang in the air like a
rotten decay a solemn cemetery mist cold
breath with a ice kiss eye in shadows finds
the mutalated cattleufo sightings and footprint
findings are the only clues to what ive been
hiding haunted ghost hills and black dollar
bills hint what i got hidden in my
skills seeing jesus in the clouds im
higher,i look down on him and feel proud this
sound reaches higher than umpteenth this slams
on hard on a floor of concrete cracking
homes slinging stones as i summon up all my
clones control to do my bidding like
drones this sound reaches into your
mind and it slowly melts and warms mine im
in a leash with the hellhound fire burns my
rhyming sounds i got a hole list of
reasons one named for each
season (distortion) (the uncontrolable
sound) (Distortion) (flipping your mind
inside down) (distortion) (slowly letting
you fry) (distortion) (making god and satan
collide):x 4
there are two types of
people ones who look ahead and ones who
talk to the dead
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