[video]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7npu377nbM[/video]
As I let the instrumental manifest
my lyrics tend to rationalize, and grammer's stress
my plan of attack relax's demands respect
I foresee the territories and the planets best
as it becomes clearer the thoughts can't connect.......
Struck by the black gold, and hit by the broken pipes
I drown in my own wealth, fall from the open heighths
knowing I, may be the greatest I cannot show the strife
of those that died, fighting for what we all know as right
so I cry, falling into a deep slumber viewing hellish correlation
become a angel that has focused on his own teleportation
view over a desolate land, where the bodies are dried up
those who never find love, no telling how they might wind up
as if toys to the government, pecked on by the vulteres at night
I cannot bear the thought of this, man, is this the culture I find?
where we sip barrells of wine, alcohol influenced, drug bearing
without a second glimpse, I transport to the ghetto, thug wearing
jewelry, glistenin' off the street lights, he who has seen life
no regrets, but still dreams like he has a chance to be clean right?
night school, hiding every once of wisdom, baby mother kissed him
another night stepping out to find profound love, the mission
sell his own lifestyle short, and pursue paper to pay the rent
another hustler, but still he finds hisself lost, enslaved to debt
he craves some sense, but never seen the trouble of honors
because that same sense, turns itself into a double entendre
and when you met the angel of death, who also craves the blessed
it's like karma plays tricks on you, and the point grazed the head
knocked him down, and portrayed his steps, rock bottom...
yet alive, still never seeing what he wanted, it haunts the autumn
cries at night, and becomes the term we often know as revenge
the following steps is his....how would you think he composed his steps
I then come to the steps, I hear the cries from under a light
a weeping of pain, suffering spliced into this young mother at night
above is a man screaming, cursing the very name of the young one
as if his love is undone, as his breath is under his consumption
you could understand the fear, the theory of anger is shortlived
right before law enforcement, forced in and as I sat at the porch...
sensed a breath, one lightly given, but carried on into the cold wind
as the...trash can opened, and quickly closed, caught in the commotion
the young girl runs away, and never returns to the sound of tears
cries, there's a struggle within this can and aware, came my doubt and fears
I look in and see a living child, struggling to unwrap from the blanket
and as a soul vacant, I couldn't do anything to help, just observe it's placement
my heart...grows weary upon these views, am I the only sane one living?
though in the spiritual, given the chance to see all within these limits...
still the story is far from over, because this is just where it begins....
to be continued
possibly
As I let the instrumental manifest
my lyrics tend to rationalize, and grammer's stress
my plan of attack relax's demands respect
I foresee the territories and the planets best
as it becomes clearer the thoughts can't connect.......
Struck by the black gold, and hit by the broken pipes
I drown in my own wealth, fall from the open heighths
knowing I, may be the greatest I cannot show the strife
of those that died, fighting for what we all know as right
so I cry, falling into a deep slumber viewing hellish correlation
become a angel that has focused on his own teleportation
view over a desolate land, where the bodies are dried up
those who never find love, no telling how they might wind up
as if toys to the government, pecked on by the vulteres at night
I cannot bear the thought of this, man, is this the culture I find?
where we sip barrells of wine, alcohol influenced, drug bearing
without a second glimpse, I transport to the ghetto, thug wearing
jewelry, glistenin' off the street lights, he who has seen life
no regrets, but still dreams like he has a chance to be clean right?
night school, hiding every once of wisdom, baby mother kissed him
another night stepping out to find profound love, the mission
sell his own lifestyle short, and pursue paper to pay the rent
another hustler, but still he finds hisself lost, enslaved to debt
he craves some sense, but never seen the trouble of honors
because that same sense, turns itself into a double entendre
and when you met the angel of death, who also craves the blessed
it's like karma plays tricks on you, and the point grazed the head
knocked him down, and portrayed his steps, rock bottom...
yet alive, still never seeing what he wanted, it haunts the autumn
cries at night, and becomes the term we often know as revenge
the following steps is his....how would you think he composed his steps
I then come to the steps, I hear the cries from under a light
a weeping of pain, suffering spliced into this young mother at night
above is a man screaming, cursing the very name of the young one
as if his love is undone, as his breath is under his consumption
you could understand the fear, the theory of anger is shortlived
right before law enforcement, forced in and as I sat at the porch...
sensed a breath, one lightly given, but carried on into the cold wind
as the...trash can opened, and quickly closed, caught in the commotion
the young girl runs away, and never returns to the sound of tears
cries, there's a struggle within this can and aware, came my doubt and fears
I look in and see a living child, struggling to unwrap from the blanket
and as a soul vacant, I couldn't do anything to help, just observe it's placement
my heart...grows weary upon these views, am I the only sane one living?
though in the spiritual, given the chance to see all within these limits...
still the story is far from over, because this is just where it begins....
to be continued
possibly
