Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Elohim (1972), artist - Saul Williams. Date of issue: 31.05.1998
Song language: English
Elohim (1972) |
| In 1972 my mother was rushed from a James Brown concert in order to give birth |
| to me |
| My style is black hole |
| Most niggas simply sound like earth to me |
| If hip-hop were the moon I’d be the first to bleed |
| Cyclical sacraments of self for all my peers to read |
| I recite the user night the light for you to read by |
| Have you floating on cloud nine without you realizing it’s my mind’s sky |
| And the ground on which you walk is the tongue with which I talk |
| I speak the seas, I root the trees of suburbia and New York |
| City streets can never claim me, that’s why I never sound like you |
| All y’all niggas claim the streets as if paths through the woods ain’t true |
| You better walk your path, you better do the math |
| 'Cuz your screw face will only make the Buddha laugh |
| Even if you know your lessons you don’t know the half |
| But don’t take it from me |
| Son, take a bath |
| I can recite the grass on the hill and memorize the moon |
| I know the cloud forms of love by heart |
| And have brought tears to the eye of the storm |
| My memory banks walk forests and Amazon river banks |
| And I scream them into sunsets that echoed in earthquakes |
| Shadows have been my spotlight as I monologue the night |
| And dialogue with days |
| Soliloquies of wind and breeze |
| Applauded by sun-rays |
| We put language in zoos to observe caged thought |
| And toss peanuts and P-Funk at intellect |
| And motherfuckers think these are metaphors |
| I speak what I see |
| All words and worlds are metaphors of ME |
| My life was authored by the moon |
| Footprints written in soil |
| The fountain pen of martian men |
| Noveling human toil |
| And yes, the soil speaks highly of me |
| But earth seeds root me poetry |
| And read forests forever through recitation |
| Now |
| Maybe I’m too serious |
| Too little here to matter |
| Though I’m riddled with the reason of the sun |
| I stand up comet with the audience of lungs |
| This body of laughter is it with me or at me? |
| Hue more or less |
| Human though gender’s mute |
| And the punchline has it’s lifeline at it’s root |
| I’m a star this life of suburbs I commute |
| Make daily runs between the sun and earthly loot |
| And raise my children to the height of light and truth |