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My treasure is my personal evolution as a writer
A pride-stricken prizefighter buried alive
No baptisms by fire just endless inquiry
Right now just listen and sit with me
David Blaine inside written word, Descartes
Playing around at Dante's peak, throwing a party
I so beyond relaity, I don't need morphine or valium
I could go inside my illusion, turn up the volume
While the rest of the world suffers apocryphal circumstance
Blown away by nuclear winter I've learned to work my hands
Philosophically I've found the perfect stance, its
Mental martial arts, watch me develop the chi
While darwinism is physical gentrification, no nazi's developing me
I see a futre of super-soldiers that have gone power hungry
Disgruntled ex-patriots that have turned against their Mother country
Lately it feels as if a voice inside me has been perceived
Before it was just a fetus, now it can speak and breathe
I don't see the difference between mantra and music
All music is a state of trance, thats why Em said "Just Lose It"
Hypnotizes the teeny-boppers makes them join in group sex
A duplex in the sky, is the God we find merciful or ruthless
What if the Hubble telescope is an extension of Babel's Tower
The seventh trumpet blares, await the meteor showers
As the meteors strike I think of something deeper to write
A battle with my own psyche, wrote on it last night
In my diary I foretold the truth in those four scrolls
The ones that got buried in the Sea, y'all know
John the Baptist had baptized them in magic potions
I'm devoted to the magic flowing in words I wrote
I could've forecast the end of times in a rhyme
You would feed it, eat it, delete it....like "DOPE!"
I feel like I'm the lion trying to preach with muffled roars
I wish I could just talk but I have to use metaphors
Imagine trying to reach a congregation with arcane language
Its like Shakespeare coming back to be the Beatles bassist
The basics of Sanskrit but is it a sane script
They say the Bible's a knock-off Hammurabi Code
Were our favorite prophets just plagiarists?
What if Lucifer had scrambled the word up
What if we're Anti-Christian, satanists
Symbolisms so enigmatic it'd take days to get
When those days turn to weeks, months, years
All truth circumsizes and becomes mangled and weird
Be a fighter in the New Age Crusades
My treasure is my personal evolution as a writer
A pride-stricken prizefighter buried alive
I write about a God...that will save the New World.
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Links:
Trying To Speak To Ya-Mr. Abstract
Upon His Grave-Deviate
