Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Origins of the Creed, artist - Dan Bull. Album song Generation Gaming XV, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 20.02.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Dan Bull
Song language: English
Origins of the Creed |
Even the softest step |
Leaves footprints in the sand |
Whether you hold coin |
Or blade |
Or bow within your hand |
Even the lightest touch |
Leaves traces in the dust |
When coins are spent |
Bows are broken |
Blades decayed to rust |
I write my lyrics out in lines of hieroglyphics |
At about a mile a minute |
Never mind the vile and wicked |
Violent images, it might elicit |
I defy the cynics' diatribes and missives |
Swimming in the Nile and give a smiling crocodile a grimace |
For those who might have missed it |
My mind is mystic |
Like my life is mythic |
So don’t you try to shift it |
I’m a highly gifted kind of misfit |
The sands of time slide aside the pyramids |
In a manner that’s quite unscientific |
I take a large obelisk or the hard top of a sarcophagus |
And stick it in a hippapotamus' oesophagus as if it’s bottomless |
I can’t stop it, it’s hopeless armed like an octopus |
Hopping off of the top of an acropolis |
Popping off above Ptolemy’s populace |
With a bronze khopesh and a lot of guts |
Plus tell you what I’ll just |
Posthumously drop you off at the necropolis |
Say ta for the lift |
Cleopatra’s a goddess, a prophetess |
Don’t even need to ask what the profit is |
She’s backed up with actual providence |
Even the softest step |
Leaves footprints in the sand |
Whether you hold coin |
Or blade |
Or bow within your hand |
Even the lightest touch |
Leaves traces in the dust |
When coins are spent |
Bows are broken |
Blades decayed to rust |
It all starts with one |
A single grain of gold |
Finally fed up of living every day with pain untold |
'Til every woman, every child, every man |
Is a grain of sand sliding through the cracks in the pharoah’s hand |
Here I live amid the pyramids |
Appearing in a vision, spirited |
And near enough as soon as I’ve seen a rib |
I stuck a spear in it |
It is intimate |
It’s been a minute |
Since I cut a ligament of an innocent |
An uninhibited, illegitimate |
Son of the rhythm and instruments |
Maybe it’s grandiloquent |
To say I haven’t equivalents |
But stringing up such intricate linguistics |
Is a stimulant |
That’ll open my iris |
And I’m hoping Osiris finds us |
The brotherhood is born, we leave our other form behind us |
Julius Caesar truly is eager |
To zoom in and be the nubian leader |
Maybe he’s doomed to achieve it |
A new Egypt soon’ll be breathing |
A few more tombs to explore really deep in |
Tutankhamun’s seen that you’re thieving |
You’re impeding hes sleep, little heathen |
So there better be a really good reason |
Whereas we never need sleep |
Cyrene’s serene enough for us |
Every leader succumbs |
Even queen Nefertiti’s head becomes a bust |
Whereas we never need sleep |
Cyrene’s serene enough for us |
There’s a deep heat |
Sending each and every piece of dust to dust |
Even the softest step |
Leaves footprints in the sand |
Whether you hold coin |
Or blade |
Or bow within your hand |
Even the lightest touch |
Leaves traces in the dust |
When coins are spent |
Bows are broken |
Blades decayed to rust |