Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Cut Deepens, artist - Alix Perez. Date of issue: 11.10.2009
Song language: English
The Cut Deepens |
| We transmit, though speaking in tongues heathen |
| Lungs bleed the essence of sleep as the cut deepens |
| Gatecrashing your dreams in a blunt sequence |
| You wake with your face a vision of stunned grievance |
| We transmit, though speaking in tongues heathen |
| Lungs bleed the essence of sleep as the cut deepens |
| Gatecrashing your dreams in a blunt sequence |
| You wake with your face a vision of stunned grievance |
| The beat’s a blank canvas |
| Till it’s stretched on an easel or gleaming in damp stanzas |
| Of the gully type, flick with paint, cross the brush strokes |
| Oozing out the quill like a thick haze of gun smoke |
| Around these parts we speak in potent imagery |
| Flows leak to leave the meat soaking miserably |
| Skin-deep, got their souls froze, broken visibly |
| And in my mind clocks each speeds spoke as wizardry |
| Scribing thoughts while I circumnavigate the urban sprawl |
| Drunk junkies swig on Tennent’s, hit the curb and fall |
| Just another element of nightlife in the L |
| Where knife slicing is relevant and rife likened to hell |
| I rhyme right for the hell of it, to define why we prevail |
| In a life citing rhetoric to ignite mice to rebel |
| Caught up in an action I just couldn’t stop |
| Waiting on the verdict when the gabble hits the wooden block |
| We transmit, though speaking in tongues heathen |
| Lungs bleed the essence of sleep as the cut deepens |
| Gatecrashing your dreams in a blunt sequence |
| You wake with your face a vision of stunned grievance |
| We transmit, though speaking in tongues heathen |
| Lungs bleed the essence of sleep as the cut deepens |
| Gatecrashing your dreams in a blunt sequence |
| You wake with your face a vision of stunned grievance |
| They asked if I could handle the plight, the white Saracen |
| Night traveler, light scavenger, I affluent |
| Skimmed at the birth, I was spawned at the womb’s silicone |
| Prosper no relevance like a door to a tomb’s intervals and |
| Here with all things said and done we precede |
| No limits, no grieve esteem hold at the slow speed |
| I float freely on these planes the magnetic a black Celica |
| Transport through a ghost, invisible cracked pearl exterior |
| Soul’s killed, the side wins, time switch was tracked last |
| Cold with the d-dough firmly saddled in my back draft |
| Tryna ride passenger, I digress, you die challengers |
| I find so to speak in code or black on canvases |
| Transmission, 2−4 to 580 |
| More than a pastime I cast and strive daily |
| Fasten the ties, yeah, I fathered those ice babies |
| I’m class blind sagey, tell me, will draft save me? |
| We transmit, though speaking in tongues heathen |
| Lungs bleed the essence of sleep as the cut deepens |
| Gatecrashing your dreams in a blunt sequence |
| You wake with your face a vision of stunned grievance |
| We transmit, though speaking in tongues heathen |
| Lungs bleed the essence of sleep as the cut deepens |
| Gatecrashing your dreams in a blunt sequence |
| You wake with your face a vision of stunned grievance |