| The fiery sun of my passions evaporates the love lakes of my soul
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| clouds my thoughts and rains you into existence
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| as I take flight on bolts of lighting
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| claiming chaos as my concubine and you as my me
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| I of the storm you of the sea
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| we of the moon land of the free
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| what have I done to deserve this?
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| am I happy?
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| happiness is a mediocre sin and for a middle-class existence
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| I see through smiles and smell truth in the distance
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| beyond one dimensional smiles and laughter
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| lies our hereafter where tears echo laughter
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| you’d have to do math to divide
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| a smile by a tear times fear equals mere truth
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| I simply delve in the air and if that’s the case
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| all I have to do is breathe and all else will follow
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| that’s why drums are hollow
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| and I like drums drums are good but
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| I can’t think straight
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| I lack the attention span to meditate
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| my attention spans galaxies here and now are immense
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| seconds are secular, moments are mine,
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| self is illusion, music’s divine
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| noosed by the strings of Jimi’s guitar I swing
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| purple hazed pendulum hypnotizing the part of I that never dies
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| look into my eyes are the windows of the soul
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| it’s fried chicken collies and cornbread
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| it’s corn milk flour sour cream eggs and oil
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| it’s the stolen blood of the earth
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| used to make cars run and kill the fish
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| who me? |
| I play scales
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| the scales of dead fish of oil slicked seas
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| my sister blows wind through the hollows of fallen trees
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| and we are the echoes of eternity
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| echoes of eternity
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| echoes of eternity
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| maybe you heard of us
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| we do rebirths, revolts and resurrections
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| we threw basement parties in pyramids
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| I left my tag on the wall
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| the beats would echo off the stone
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| and solidify into the form of light bulbs
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| destined to light up the heads of future generations
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| they’re releasing it up in the form of ohm
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| maybe you heard of us
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| if not then you must be trying to hear us
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| and in such cases we can’t be heard
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| we remain in the darkness unseen
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| in the center of unpeeled bananas we exist uncolored by perception
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| clothed to the naked eye
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| five senses cannot sense the fact of our existence
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| and that’s the only fact
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| in fact there are no facts
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| fax me a fact
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| and I’ll telegram I’ll hologram I’ll telephone the son of man
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| and tell him he is done
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| leave a message on his answering machine
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| telling him there are none
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| god and I are one
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| times moon times star times sun
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| the factor is me, you remember me
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| I slung amethyst rocks on Saturn blocks
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| 'til I got caught up by earthling cops
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| they wanted me for their army or whatever
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| picture me, I swirl like the wind
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| tempting tomorrow to be today
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| tiptoeing the fine line between everything and everything else
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| I am simply Saturn swirling sevenths through sooth
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| the sole living heir of air
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| and I (inhale) and (exhale) and all else follows
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| reverberating the space inside of drum hollows
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| package and bottles and chips and tomorrow
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| then sold to the highest nigga
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| I swing from the tallest tree
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| lynched by the lowest branches of me
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| praying that my physical will set me free
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| cause I’m afraid that all else is vanity
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| mere language is profanity
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| I’d rather hum
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| or have my soul tattooed to my tongue
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| and let the scriptures be sung in gibberish
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| as words be simple fish in my soulquarium
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| and intellect can’t swim
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| so I stopped combing my mind so my thoughts could lock
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| I’m tired of trying to understand
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| perceptions are mangled matted and knotted anyway
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| life is more than what meets the eye and I
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| so elevate I to the third but even that shit seems absurd
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| and your thoughts leave you third eye-solated
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| no man is an island but I often feel alone
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| so I find peace through OM |