1. |
bloom through ze cracks
01:55
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A students don’t run the world
C students do
the ones who sleep well
when their day job is killing dudes
it doesn’t matter who
as long as they’re painted as symbols
all the good in the world can fit inside a thimble.
justice won’t be done till heavens falls
disconnect the phone in case fate ever calls
what can you give when you’re only looking to get
organized by infantile impulse, we’re cruising to wreck
beat a crooked case against myself. shadow in the state.
break in the discourse. some are speaking through bended blades.
individual dreams lead to individual death
if you want to live forever, dream outside your head
gamify our lives. no respawn or gulag afterlife chat
hit the loud in crisis and try to bloom through the cracks
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2. |
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3. |
church of self
02:09
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a lot of folks claim me. always spent my time alone
no one whittles at mountains with broken exposed bones
ask them where they heard their first curse etched on a wall
torn down illusions after a ten thousand mile crawl
listen with yr nose. pupils expand for desire unleashed
vertical symbols rattle as A.I. generates our speech
listen to the priest as he shakes the head of a child
exorcism saved me from the church and the mild
those who lie to themselves first. eats their hands to prove a point.
stink up. roll up oblivion. hot film to a lit joint.
jury, witness, judge, and a thief rolled into one
wandering ammunition in the flesh. blue trigger man with his righteous gun.
trust lost. deprogram from production to creative work
nothing to be gained except a backseat ride in a flat black hearse.
words as germs, art as terms, gender kept neatly tucked in my purse
fried like my nerves. rent comes in monthly bursts.
money and time is hard to find
like sperm and an id at the scene of the crime
who’s to blame? abstract or concrete
I stay mad and frustrated, but mostly at me
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4. |
I can't survive this
02:02
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prize memories leaking out my tired eyes. a bright fight when the sun don’t rise
split a bag of ego. watch myself die. piece it back together. held together by the gripes.
cynical trip. conscious of the weight. breach in the mind. hellfire inner space.
all the friends that left. never really there. career is king; not a middle class care.
moved once a year since I was pissing the bed. avoiding institutions. avoiding the meds.
classic trash, avoid the bag. anticapitalist, swinging mid stroke in a mad hare dash
pedal the legs like there’s wolves at my heels. every king a criminal looking to steal.
but when you steal from the poor. it’s divine. like throwing out the pulp and eating the rine.
labor creates wealth. bosses soul aint shit. boss thoughts as useful as a musty bag of dicks.
how you own a business, but can’t make anything.
a team of wage slaves is yr ultimate dream.
who can you control for the least amount of money.
ain’t place in heaven for spines we cook funny
and economic violence is a daily choice. choose to eat the lunch of the begging boys.
shivering in the rain, despotic homeless youth. I see myself when I turn on the news.
criminally poor by sleeping in the park. how you get a job with no public transit and no car?
I can't survive this.
I can't survive this hellhole.
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5. |
who's yr crowd?
02:05
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I’ve been called pretentious by men more pretentious than me
projecting their insecurities.
afraid I was encroaching on their identity. they lost their seat.
my love’s infinite and I take care of my own
but you cross a boundary I make and you’re on your own
when you’re small and no one cares. you have to bark real loud.
bite’s out of the question. you have to manipulate the crowd.
who's yr crowd?
weak from honesty, I’m dreaming on peaks
mountains I thought I’d never see. dead white drift beneath me
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6. |
white and old
02:22
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never having fun. I’m never doing shit.
I’m just gonna lay on my back and let the masters win
no political voice. work is death.
gotta build my dream inside my head.
so who could care if this one loses
when they win hogs bring out the nooses
I want a jesus like the bible told
not the gun toting miser of white and old
you can have any identity, except yr class
they want us white, the want us black
atomized pixels in a nationalized spectacle
it’s never an emergency, especially medical
you can die in the street like dog
the capitalist wins. we’re contemplating the death of god.
eat yr brunch or serve it up
yr lot in life is genetic luck
that’s why we’re divided into visible breaks
nothing vertical except the rate of hate
we can’t blame our masters, they’ve given so much
everybody dreams of working up
keep paddling we’re crossing the river styx
death is our guide and we’re looking for profit
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7. |
lost souls is the goal
01:53
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everyone’s climbing but there’s nowhere to go
dreams are in the mud and the hands make the tone.
rich kids cry and moan into expensive gear
we’re all in a ditch, clinging to our tears
crabs in a bucket. culture of a evedying cult.
when we get to heaven who fights for the golden throne
babies in their cribs or men chewing on the flag
red, white, and wreckage. gun nuts are a drag.
so much violence to mask a clear fear of death
if you’re betting on a mortal’s soul, you’re losing yr bets
intemporal tempos. waves washing through the time line
I’m just a typo in code in the binary by lines
remember the shape I made when I blocked the light
how cool I felt when I was alone and high
melt the cheese between each slice and memory
I always hated the sun and double hated the beach
who hates the beach. I’m that piece of shit.
better stare at the wall than earn more to spend.
I can’t dream with you on mind
a world with bosses is spoilt fruit on the vine
I just want healthcare and a tiny piece of land
somewhere the government can’t reach out it’s hand
take all my rights and tell me I’ve lead a bad life
afraid of my intellect and afraid of my height
if you ever read, that’ll radically fuck you up
learn all the lies that have been sown to fill you up
after howard zinn, baldwin, or chomsky, that’s enough
read a little more, it’s never enough
rabbit down a hole. another lost soul.
back to the tv. another lost soul
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8. |
worm in ze peach
02:03
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it’s raining, so no one can leave
the alcohol sinks in, there’s a worm in the peach
the guests are barking at cars passing by
eating lunch like each bite is closer to eternal life
who know’s maybe external fixation is the way?
consume yr way to glory and omit yr mistakes
I got sour thoughts that fall like heavy rain
I love the same but I dream of a fresher pain
fresher pain
I don’t have nothing to give
I don’t have a good reason to live
but when I help others
I can see the future… again, again, again.
again.
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9. |
my flesh for my needs
02:01
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I remember praying for brick phones and no calls till 9 pm
missed the generation, college and the nation, hooking up in the dm’s
atonal boy screaming on bedazzled harmonic extraction, babbage on some sad shit.
if I wasn’t building other’s empires, I was a distraction
career and ego, ethereal bits to chew to death, locked in yr head
taking selfies from the twisted metal and fleshy mess. documented regrets.
sex as a logo. I’m a nascar tracksuit in my own feed.
if I didn’t telegraph it to the world, I’ll leave it to my speech
though we never get to say our peace. someone’s always speaking for me.
they don’t want the poor to speak. seldom can we preach.
sins on the resume look like midi hats on the trap beat. snare on the three.
takes a lot of money to gather respect and reach.
always got to trade my flesh for my needs.
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10. |
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11. |
judas jargon
02:02
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judas jargon, stick it to the message
two hands on the drink. two lips to the beverage.
lost myself in the wetness. drank myself sick.
heart stopped thrice like car floor bic
I kept on kickin’. pushing blood to the finger tips.
with that homeless drip, I worked through holy heels
walked to work for six months in my air force feels.
blisters bigger than jesus in the rural south
just the hot ass sun to comfort my dry ass mouth
working in a kitchen, from heat to heat to dish pit blues
I worked too much, made to little to keep up with the news
superstructure does what it do. crude oils to installed dictatorship.
ruth bader gins-flip. control the narrative. omit how we live. blur how we spend.
conservative queens are girls bosses in the media
fuck the stuck dying masses. mass necrophilia.
what can we honor when all violence is for capital gains.
ford loved the nazi’s and supported his dreams
we’d have to be dead to support our capitalist brains.
less for the art, the humanity, than the empty frame.
great minds of extraction. pencil demons etching fashion.
what in the beauty of a trojan horse? a future city of ashes?
throw away half our clothes and food, folks dreaming of waste.
they don’t care where it goes. don’t care if it stays.
just mask the godhole or the social contract loses the clause to behave
rage upon rage. material decline and triggered sustain.
all the symbols I loved say we’re dying all the same.
I want peace for the brain, my neighbors, and sleep for the snakes.
how do you love when there's no time?
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12. |
lethal aid
02:11
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we’re dropping lethal aid on brown kids abroad
we’re spraying the streets with chemicals; calling it fog
cops are murdering fathers, god bless the hogs
half the folks are dead. the other half are blinded and lost.
but the tv’s still on. streaming our violent delights.
you can serve time in one state. the other get high.
social contract feels like serfdom in slow-mo
hope I never get stuck and washboarded in gitmo
eat the dirt you’ll never own. smile through the shit.
they eat our lunch and poison the kids.
there’s no morality here. profit’s driving the bus.
kids are throwing up. there’s plastic in their gums.
half tones flat. quarter notes are cropped.
you must love the gun and suck dry the boss
you'll never own yr time as long as they live
eat the dirt you’ll never own. smile through the shit.
they eat our lunch and poison the kids.
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13. |
interior life
02:13
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eyes closed, we’re sitting on the couch
we’re watching whatever. I’m watching yr mouth.
hear you laugh and I feel washed and weak
there’s no reason to miss you. you’re here with me.
oh I love you like the lungs love the air
we’re more than self we’re the ideal pair
loving you is easy cause my brain stays lit
every time I see you, the lights get hit
everything inside feels electric
everything feels like glory with you
hope we dream of each other tonight.
when I fall out, I’ll be thinking of you
eyes closed, we’re on vacation
it don’t matter where as long as I’m hearing yr voice
laughter isn’t always a choice, but it seem so easy
I feel so awkward. singing romance from the tv
how could we be what the narrative sold
I’m not ready to die, but I’m ready to get old
with you. oh with you I could be free.
interior life like a true life dream
I’m so scared to go to sleep. eyes closed.
you here with me.
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14. |
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baby shit soft. burden to the lord
when she loves me, she does so on all four
small between, concrete is an image
information we download. belief we suspend it.
separation of self and material needs.
dreaming in chemicals. trophies for greed.
no one’s christ like while some folks ain’t got shit to eat
transcend the system by helping those you see
feed a child or stranger and meet god
ego needs confirmation. heaven needs you off.
last blink. breath lost in an empty room.
where there was you, now there’s dust for the broom
we all go, as our loved ones have gone
church, state, and self is pebbles in the lawn
each cut comes and erases the plans of men
obliterated cosmos wails and black hole’s grin
you are nothing and that’s okay
you’ll disappear like everyone
no one will remember yr name
laugh and proclaim
I was never anyone anyway
I dug my grave with a shovel crafted by ego
I kept looking back and hoping god would see me
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15. |
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16. |
holy and the brave
02:05
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world so surreal. I can barely believe.
the tatts on my arm and the tides of steam
birds fighting dogs for scraps of food
brats fighting dumpsters over heated spoons.
future’s fucked like a penciled in grade
how many hands came across this edited space
holy and the brave. bombing kids for valor in the vein.
like hemingway in spain. you’re in the wrong place.
sure you’re manly. born to die.
like those before you, you’ll see the end of yr life
terror does alot of things to the false self
brick by brick. constructing an ideal hell
one source of light. shadow is the shame.
of all the life you neglect to build yr pillars of pain
man, logic, concrete lies ethered by darkness
what’s beauty but hunger at harvest?
hiding from the light that’s always been there
who you hiding from when you’re feeling despair
nothing, no one, god and thinself
sight checking brail over the shoulder of the veiled.
who can see? we’re all in the dark.
muthafuckers so certain. can’t even see their cards.
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17. |
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bones rejecting muscles. feet swollen like my eyes
drink more if I could, but my heart stopped that ride
staring at the ceiling. paycheck barely covers rent
there’s no money for me, every dime comes already spent
hours logged on the ledger. still here till next week
buy champagne if they’d let me. all I can afford is a pepsi.
chemicals in my mouth. sugar in my veins
hell is taking my toes and watching my weight
chains of modernity
feel more productive every week
own less by the end of me
chains of modernity
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18. |
dodgy rain
02:12
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I’m a monk in the digital age. blank page seeking center stage.
think hard enough. I’ll evaporate. what’s hard work to a saturday?
seven days and an empty brain. I made a wage. I drew the blank.
pimped out the pain. sold it for a warm cup of rain.
gripped the stick. had nothing to gain.
what’s a beating to the beat? short on stems. less than half the reach.
waiting for the sky to give you what you need.
might as well pedal for peace. you’re biking for yr lease.
never really owned anything but the debt they gave.
only the dead are brave. walking sentences for a name.
trickle down violence. flesh for the empire and state.
what feeds their soil is what fills their plate.
violence is holy and good in mammon’s name.
heaven’s trash leaves treasure for hell’s gate.
take what they give. settle for no land and no tribe.
every scrap of concrete is eaten by the night
natural decline. creative destruction. all bulls are bustin’.
living like a target in capital’s bukkake
even when it rains, it’s always dodgy
avoid the wet spots in capital gains
you don’t want to be on the wrong side of their dream
drank the shadows at the edge of the pond
saw my death and an infinite hell had dawned
the end of man and the beginning of eternal machine
we traded in our flesh for an empire of dreams
I know I rap a lot abt the end of all things
but any fear of the world is a fear of the end of me
we mask our lives in the narrative of ambition
all life is grace and identity is always in transition
nothing is permanent except the truth of change
what was once lost was found in it’s place
until we lose everything. we live in our debt and dreams.
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19. |
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20. |
I knew my intent
02:14
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what can we know but what the masters say
vertical highlight reel in a simulated day. clouds soak up tears for crooked rain.
mirror in the cancerous crib and in outer space
a playground for the ego and our shuttered shame. protestant self-reliance and self hate.
holy ache. death is the hole that seeds the hate.
fear of other and love for the same. burning skin like sage.
spirits and doubt gone , but what’s in it’s place?
two headed demon sharing one featureless face
scared of the ugly patterns in the shape of our hearts
we copy the beat and cut out the best parts
half time veins, pumping blue blood to my leaning teeth
I have to watch my tongue when I’m thinking to speak
rhetoric righteous, but body in the iron mask
pity for strangers, but my violence gets a pass
I knew my intent.
oh you don’t like me?
who gives a shit?
you don’t pay my bills
or pay my rent.
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21. |
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stomach sounds like boots in the dryer
need that loud. need to get higher
body fails me about once a week
heart flops like yr ex when I’m exposed to the heat
sun is the enemy. moon is the friend.
late night lover, I want to do it again
it’s the alabama malaise. bored till the end
we’re back to back smoking seeds and stems
headache keeps truckin. I’m over the top.
arm wrestling with the government and my boss
gun to my head, better always perform
they dream of rebuilding after our perpetual storms
create the crisis and reluctantly give the relief
what it must feel like to fabricate and kill the dream
ain’t it funny the most violent are the babies
terrified and hurting everyone for sport
(dreamin of domination and colorless chords)
you’re not lying to me. you’re lying to yourself.
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22. |
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23. |
peanut butter pancakes
02:01
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here’s a rose that’ll never die.
a song you can sing out of time.
a constant light from which you don’t have to hide
it’s here for eternal warmth and love
cause if you remember, the grace of now
tender hands and the love we found
how can the life shield us from our love
how can anyone deny this love
here’s a rose that’ll never die
vibrations of love and sending all the signs
a story to sing into existence
we can fold the map, skip the distance
make each month feels like minutes
push our patience to it’s limits
counting down till we have to say goodnight
I don’t want to say good bye
goodnight, goodnight, I’ll dream of you, tonight
I'm so thankful like peanut butter pancakes on a sunday
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24. |
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25. |
the line is now
01:49
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free range mind. unscooped my mids.
we use to de-seed the dirt. smoke up the bridge
future’s got that loud. stays quiet with suspense.
news cycle panic. manic with throwing bricks.
every shot I take, I need a pinch of the zip
reseal the pack, put away for the kids
vice for me can’t be a hereditary shadow
who we battle can’t be born in the fight. an illusion of a life.
flow state millionaire. I’m creative without crutch.
but bowl burned twice, guitar cream fileted and lush
so hush, let the monk make a groove
every temple has a mantra, so be chill in the stu
listen for the song you never needed to make
until yr present met yr past and you began to pen yr fate
words are the vision and who screens medicine for the blind
you can claim the sky, but you only see what’s in the eye
who can you fight, when the body begins to fail
universe in a dying light. as we slip past the veil
how will I see without my eyes? fixed point in time.
lost to the body. ascend and separate from the line.
the line of now and the ever gone yesterday
who will I be without the weight of my pain?
|
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26. |
die absurd(instrumental)
01:56
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27. |
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28. |
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29. |
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30. |
zipped lip(instrumental)
01:28
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31. |
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32. |
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33. |
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love like a gun, warm from use
dreaming of violence. dreaming of you.
foreign shores to rest these giant that sleep
you better hope it stays quiet or we’re drilling for our needs
you see a home. we see a dollar sign.
what’s our is ours and what’s yours is mine.
drain the wound. we move on to a better life.
stop the thoughts and dry your eyes.
desire is a hole
it becomes the grave
we can’t turn it off
we’re buying future stakes
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34. |
end of the night
02:16
|
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|
if there’s no love under god, then what’s the point
if we’re bombing for profit and killing for coin
empty symbols on a dead man’s grave
we’re had all the speeches. marveled at the brains
that gave us the brink of oblivion
hoping someone will save us from the idiots on the hill
who has time to dream. tv selling fear.
there’s nothing above us. chewing on hate. staring at our peers.
hoping the end gets us before we see the light.
hoping somehow sleep comes before the end of the night.
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35. |
||||
|
there’s never been a word that could break bad faith
if they see their own rot, then there’s nothing left to say
squawk till you’re blue in the face. there ain’t two to a lane.
can’t be serving empty plates.
I’m lost on whether hope is a sentence or life
we get live a lie till we die
you start out poor. teacher hostile in the class
we’re dreaming of freedom. ringing with facts.
but they don’t teach the teacher what the preacher can’t preach.
state lies in their teeth. selling the dream.
oh if there’s so much love in yr heart
give a little bit
second act of my third voice
last two died in a show of spiritual noise
screaming to scream. from angst to joy
the child must discard all his toys
leaving in a hurry. meat suit clank and stutter
floating hard. missing all the rudders.
what’s a starlit escape to a child in pain
men’s heavy hands and excessive volume feel insane
night’s the friend. hope’s the red flag.
they give you well wishes with every slash and jab
stabbed by the ones you gave the most
like all the clowns have ran out of jokes
and sailed away on a river of chemical tears
when cheering turns to jeers. the grave is near.
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36. |
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37. |
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38. |
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39. |
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40. |
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41. |
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42. |
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43. |
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44. |
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45. |
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46. |
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47. |
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48. |
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49. |
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50. |
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51. |
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52. |
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53. |
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54. |
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55. |
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56. |
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57. |
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58. |
less alone
02:40
|
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59. |
the state
02:36
|
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60. |
material constraints
02:58
|
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61. |
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62. |
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63. |
I worry abt you
01:58
|
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64. |
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65. |
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66. |
their soul is ops
02:16
|
|||
|
heavy handed. the weight of my mind.
pen in my hand. it’s the shadow of the giest.
global economy. colonial new age rules.
what are we now, but instruments or tools?
speculative wealth. engine in the economy.
no autonomy. the spirit that turns the keys.
strips the rims and sings sanctity
what’s mine is mine, what’s yours is what I need.
give me what you got or I’ll call a new law
we’ll steal all yr land and ship off yr job
when the weight turns to white you light
that high won’t erase the credit score dive
social system, dispossess the poor from mobility
open hostility towards futureless auxiliary
we vote for the cost. whether we understand or not.
you’re in the belly of the bog or the headless loft of bop.
dancing to the sorrows of the hopeless and lost.
got to look to fiction to find a just law.
spray ya from the back with no stick or tough talk.
mammon is their god.
their soul is ops. smell swine when they cough.
righteous word of mammon’s intent
everything for rent. never own anything again.
one thing to know above all else
control is an illusion.
one thing to forget above all else
there are no conclusions.
|
||||
67. |
hand-me-down name
02:35
|
|||
|
I quit cigarettes oh so easily, but I still eat like a pig
sometimes we know better and still don’t know how to live
confusion handed down like tradition for the clueless youth
just read the writing above yr family tomb
sealed and sad. stuck with the folks the universe left.
I want a leash and an absentee degree for failing my tests
hand me down name and baggage too heavy to lift
sinking in my hometown. there’s got to be a better way than this.
hit the breaks, slid thirty years past my prime
can say I never did anything wrong but soft crimes and wasted my life
pain opaque, obliterated boundaries in a heap at my feet
woe is me. my ancestors would beg for my peace.
|
||||
68. |
muted through the trauma
02:07
|
|||
|
stupid and empty like I’ve always been.
meat suit walking like he’s swimming without fins.
I feel so dumb when I talk, so I stare at walls
hope no one says anything at all
too broke to be an adult. I’m a gutter child.
I live off scraps and the slop that gathers near the pile
the pile of bodies outside of town
where we hide our secrets and the victims of the ever now
remember cousin, she died too soon
I think of her every now and then when I see the moon
where do all the dreamers go when they can’t sleep no more
|
||||
69. |
||||
|
half-lit jubilee. god swallowed me at age three. out came this shadow. allergic to bees.
cross-pollinate. sore like a pimple. music with the symbols.
all the good in the world can fit inside a thimble.
hit the heated deck. sailor’s sun is pushing the ship.
we locked and stripped bare till the groove digs up the dead.
loyal and pissed on the workers behalf. even in half-sleep, I’m primed, pissed, and stay mad.
every day cuts at the tree of life. gotta judge the millionaire judges and target our tides.
when the weather fights the dreams. the dreams replace a livable life.
we’re holding the noose that’ll tighten with time.
slowly moving. can’t see our hands on our necks. delirious and blessed.
thanking the robbers for rest. warden’s good in this open air opticon.
we gotta thank the prison lord that we all got jobs.
ten cents a day and real sun on our skin.
blessed for the cell and ten toes and fingers to give.
they killed harry for protecting his wife. just hope it’s not yours the next stab at our personal time.
tanks on the corner like babies are the threat. human is the pest in the profit driven mess.
if we don’t buy poor, what are we living for. a couple chords from a couple of two tone dorks.
dream bigger. become a capitalist with no capital.
it’s not mathematical, but dreamers have to start radical
the best we got is a non-profit to rob,a resume log. call yourself a ceo
where that money stays is on a need to know. half up the nose, that’s how it goes.
rich folks throwing parties for the friends and foes.
To our dispossession they laugh and toast.
Vertical extraction, that’s how it goes.
never really been the one to give up the ghost
sooner could stop drinking than ever lose my hope
that the world is bold and beautiful. Kindness is the only key.
before we hit the final spot, we got to act how we speak
I haven’t slept since I was a kid
I missed the part where the dream was lived
but I keep saying it every day as a joke
life’s absurd. Identity is a hoax.
what part of you can’t I get at walmart.
it’s all a part of the us brand.
a sea of fans looking for symbols to believe
eyes to the sky, waiting to speak
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70. |
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71. |
terror in the nest
02:34
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|
terror in the nest. I lost a bet.
between dressed god in the flesh. we hardly met.
what’s a rose to name. a mark in a game.
we’re both sold to the same. cynic in the rain
and the holy preacher singing holy refrain
lord on high and william in tent city
one’s a saint and one’s a badge for the shitty
self-appointed voice of apex speaker box
greased socks in puddled mistakes
can’t catch a break. can’t even have my own name.
wanted one thing to my self.
lord said get real and get bail. we’re born in hell
gotta climb out, build a path for sinners looking for the light. take ourselves to task.
a better life, outer ring to an inner fight
out the gate, bell waves tight,
ringing every night
looking for the light
what’s the point of being a better man
cowards run capitalism. taking from children’s hands
reward demons and hide pillars of salt
another family’s home is a quick week’s haul
landlord struttin’ like he must’ve collected 8 folks rent
workin’ for a livin. we’re chippin in to dent
the ten men we owe for last weeks space
jump from place to place. living like a flea.
the american dream. fighting to be seen.
dying for other’s greed. done thrown out my back on extended reach
now I’m not working. I’m dying in the streets.
news says I’m a problem, but I feel like a human being
they been gouging at me since I fell out my mother.
everything in society says produce others wealth or die below the vine
no time to create. no time for love. the dead salt the brine.
in time the idiots love the taste.
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72. |
alone in the classroom
02:24
|
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|
staring at the clock or sleeping at my desk
drawing in the margins of my unfinished test
bell rings. I’m late again.
I’m two steps behind all my friends
we face in one direction and pledge all day long
memorize and recite our religious song
to the state and the state’s intent
I just want a school where I can drift
I want to learn and I want to give.
they make it hard to engage with this/
school is safe. no stepdad’s allowed
if the men ball up their fist, it gets real loud
no officer in my hallway yet
I’m sure he’ll arrest all my friends
for sagging pants or running in the halls
when we’re late in the morn, we’re on the ball
recreation we don’t get, but the campus is huge
some students struggle and some of them lose
|
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73. |
braver than a matchstick
03:14
|
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|
braver than a matchstick between the thumb and index
I walk half-time to a purdie shuffle. lost in step.
nerdy bout my music. not nerdy bout yours.
I want a sticky beat pushin on some pretty chords
janky staccato, cut the measure in a hearty half.
if you not groovin with limp. I can’t be mad.
brain all goofy. got bad weather on repeat.
you wake candy chaos. you starting with yr dreams.
can’t be free if you dream to subjugate yr peers
you leading yr life in reaction to yr fears
wake up at forty. lost a life to the shadow of a thought.
every soul wants infinite paradise. aim to be god.
frictionless life. desire ponied up to a plan.
gouge at the hole in both of yr hands.
where does it go, when it ain’t what you want
occupying a body but it feels like a haunt
I miss everyone but me / forgotten names cept the avatar you see
who came and went. water in the drain. / If there’s a finger to point, I’m to blame
I can’t really see how I speak / my interactions are half true to half hearted belief
don’t trusty myself some days even felt dumb enough to pray
braver than a leaf at the bed of the forest
changing the key when you’re off in the chorus
spirit gets by. you’d rather fail than compete.
the game goes on and on. head space on lease.
produce for others and never get a grip for yr own bag.
work and the clock feel like a tailored trap.
bosses don’t graduate low wage workers to freedom.
they keep folks hungry cause they’ll always need ‘em
he don’t have to know any part of what builds his wealth
outsource the talent. riding labor to a living hell.
infinite profit on a finite plane digs into the poor.
there’s no magical profit to outshine the market gore.
so the spectacle gets bigger to over shadow the wealth
everyone acts confused cause we consent to our own hell.
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74. |
final ritual
01:57
|
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75. |
||||
TS/AL collective Alabama
We're a collective that releases stuff from mostly alabama artists.
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