| Who knows what hides behind these gray clouds
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| Coercing men to bare frowns?
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| But even fake crowns eventually bow low to the basslines
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| That cover me like shelter for the homeless
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| From vagrant to venomous microphone pest
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| Pause only when my clones rest
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| So foot in front of foot my frame progress
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| Game of life and death, forced to maneuver past the grotesque
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| Dried maggots, gravedigger 'til nails metallic tasting
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| Iron bed springs, sleeping late, early waking
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| Bomb street corners lay bodies at the coroners
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| The bluebird of happiness tweeting to stiff followers
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| Blak summons spirits thru a male goat’s horn
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| Ate the cheese, be warned, I’m a spiteful woman, so don’t scorn
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| In the darkness, the light seeks out the target
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| And I’m starving for it, guerrilla styles like Darwin
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| With a voice like a thunder storm, this ain’t no summer breeze
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| This golden city’s dead like autumn leaves and Brandon Lee
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| And still I breathe, exhaling smog from the chest
|
| But smoke makes my eyes bleed the colours of polluted sunsets
|
| Perched high on my mental complex
|
| Yugen of Crow’s Nest separating severed heads from bloody necks
|
| Knowing the light, I remain in the dark
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| Insane sparks fire me up like a rocket discharged
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| Making history of these carbon copycats
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| Protect my origins, I’m all foundations & blueprints like architects
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| Let me lay the plan flat like the dark ages' concept of earth
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| Inverted thinking, tongue spitting rhymestyles in reverse
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| Dodging evil and schisms my gunspeak stays eloquent
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| This that grindhouse shit, there’s no damsel in distress
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| I’m from a line of hard chickens that flex their necks
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| Astounding with the intellect, compulsive never miss a step
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| Eggheads trying to box me into cardboard cartons
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| I’m heartless, rip mics in the name of carnage
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| But this reality’s boring, I count the hours
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| More sick than tired kids, more thick than I was
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| One more hit for the downers
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| And climb — ethereal anti-gravity
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| Known to disappear like cities under the Atlantic
|
| Still I breathe, exhaling smog from the chest
|
| But smoke makes my eyes bleed the colours of polluted sunsets
|
| Perched high on my mental complex
|
| Yugen of Crow’s Nest separating severed heads from bloody necks |