| Shed the skin, shrink the iris, human don’t corrupt I
|
| Frank when I speak, chief wordsmith alumni
|
| Feels like I’m chasing tracers
|
| Focus faded…
|
| In my hand I possess the knowledge of a sweet new way into the Secret Element,
|
| fires fade
|
| Upon the altar where godheads are displayed
|
| Eternal rapture of the soul incarnates with no stains
|
| I am The Cloudy Daughter — center of the storm, rising outta swirling water
|
| My stature will surpass the stars
|
| Venus of the mist whose light can be seen from afar
|
| Burns eternal like the battle of Seth and Ra
|
| But these blue wings will carry I into the Essence of All
|
| We were heroes, long ago, before the legends of the fall
|
| Building temples in the sky, rising high above nine
|
| To fight alike, spears sharper than stalagmites
|
| Gaining access to cosmic divine methods
|
| Cause none dare to question the might of Akasha’s records
|
| Spirit guides join forces as we come undone, become one
|
| The mystic Number of the Sun
|
| Shed the skin, shrink the iris, human don’t corrupt I
|
| Frank when I speak, chief wordsmith alumni
|
| Feel like I’m chasing tracers
|
| Focus faded, tryina outrun the ticking of these heart paces
|
| Shed the skin, shrink the iris, human don’t corrupt I
|
| Frank when I speak, chief wordsmith alumni
|
| Feel like I’m chasing tracers
|
| Focus faded, focus faded
|
| What kinda ism is this?
|
| We’re like light thru a prism before the schism is killed
|
| In the prison of sleep… I keep rhyming through bars, lucid dreaming
|
| Heard that love’s brighter from the outside, believe it
|
| This morning when life woke up, I dove back down into slumber
|
| Cuz in-between realities, there’s glitches when I stutter
|
| Sleep-talking formula with in-breath
|
| Exhale solutions, scientist in me is inbred
|
| My language traps the tongue — caught in diction mazes lost for days — in hazy
|
| blazes
|
| While fiery words transcend these mortal planes
|
| My verbal play’s like smoke signals, home of the braves
|
| And wild style thoughts can spray when the clouds spell riverclay
|
| Psycho-analyst type in-between-the-lines reader
|
| Deciphering codes beneath the eyelids as a dreamer
|
| Diving deeper into abstract, non-conformity
|
| My realest self’s created thru celestial artistry
|
| Shed the skin, shrink the iris, human don’t corrupt I
|
| Frank when I speak, chief wordsmith alumni
|
| Feel like I’m chasing tracers
|
| Focus faded, tryina outrun the ticking of these heart paces
|
| Shed the skin, shrink the iris, human don’t corrupt I
|
| Frank when I speak, chief wordsmith alumni
|
| Feel like I’m chasing tracers
|
| Focus faded, focus faded |