Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Thunder Clouds, artist - IllinformedAlbum song Patterns of Escapism, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 24.11.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: High Focus
Song language: English
Thunder Clouds |
Rain falls on my toes |
Walking in the rain |
Yeah |
I never stop spitting, why? |
That’s for quitters |
Hence why I’ve always got new writtens |
HF go to a show, we need them four figures |
Mad lyrics in a twist like knickers |
Envision, blood, sweat and tears |
Then go on bigger |
Start back tracking, way into the distance |
Mind rattling, it sets the rambling |
The vines of the underworld, my soul still tramples them quicker |
Catalysts for murdering the pantry, by the vinegar |
Better mind appliances that tamper with the evidence |
Staring down a motherfucking barrel at my skeleton |
Knee deep in blood so don’t ask about our wellingtons |
Or the whereabouts, of my elephants |
Why you tryna take me down, like the residence |
Sonic resonance, brain washing E M F |
Repeat after me say, 'I am legend' |
No full stop, yet I still end the sentence |
I am free, no remorse just remembrance |
The past lies, in dream fields where the scarecrows reign is assembling |
HF’s the emblem, elite I dismember them |
Leave light bodies trembling |
Hallucinogenic flash backs, now you’re remembering |
You’re more than just some atoms in a pattern that is excellent |
Painted vivid images as tears smeared vinears |
I decorate exteriors, climbing up the wall and the lining with the ethereal |
Matrix cold with no cereal |
I scratched it off like a car thief, with some dodgy materials |
Just to make it real to you, just to make it real to you |
Thunder clouds, rain falls to my toes |
Dripping through the holes that are made by rows |
Grappling for pieces of the puzzle in the cold |
Yet I never wore a muzzle when the truth must be told |
I said |
I might of joked around before but now I’m serious |
You got a occults doing weird shit like drinking periods |
Masonic house symbolism, Bohemian grove realism |
Satanic worship, it’s all imperialism |
I don’t feel this vision, I feel to reveal the realness in every written |
Hidden elevation |
I stay cloaked when I’m spitting |
Full throttle, never been a pot hole slipping |
In dodgy old Britain, keep it popping like pilling |
Not penicillin playing foxtrot villains |
Repeat after me, you are not what you own though |
Let that fly over your head, like the drones |
Nano particles dropping in your zone |
Don’t beat around the bush like Bush, he’s a skull and bones |
Society, the population needs the skull and bones in your society |
Don’t flow in the mainstream, I know that they lie to me |
I feel the pain of musical flow, like each key note was ivory |
Shed my fear I got, death here beside of me |
Staring at him in his eyes, laughing as he cries to me |
Went to console him and he stuck a fucking knife in me |
Thrust it at 90 degrees, like he’s cutting corners violently |
So agenda 21 and he’s gone when he tried to silence me |
Unsuccessful attempt (unlucky), I held my vibrancy |
Neither Hell of Heaven exists, this is the irony |
On the flip side, I’m firing off the iron like the animal inside of me |
I can breathe finally |
Thunder clouds, rain falls to my toes |
Dripping through the holes that are made by bro’s |
Grappling for pieces of the puzzle in the cold |
Yet I never wore a muzzle when the truth must be told |
I said |
Illinformed, Fliptrix, High Focus |