Mines Jehst..
Airborne, my force shrouded by cloudform
The line ravaged in the wake of this groundwar
The quintessential outlaw
Eye of the storm: my tears fall in the torrential downpour:
The flood. Your deathwish written in blood
I came in from the cold, clothes drippin' with mud
Grippin' the club. Primitive, a stig in the dump
Swingin' a punch. The bad seed, pick of the bunch
I drink black rain. Take another swig and I'm drunk,
Taste venom on the tip of my tongue; my lips cold.
Spittin' out toxins I couldnt dissolve, or with-hold
I never sold my soul for fools gold.
So I'm still free,
But too numb to feel pity. Some broke down
Now the steel-city’s a ghost town
Snowflakes cover the ground in white carpets
Seasons of espionage as time passes. The lion-hearted
Survival of the hardest artist
My open arms embrace darkness,
Still craving carnage and infamy.
But even parasites starve on this carcass of industry
"In a b-boy stance, I'm in the smog, all alone..."
You can see me as cynical, trapped in my own gothic vision.
Encapsulating chaos in this composition
Calculated, like the lies of a politition
Gripping the slipshot, I size up the opposition
I drop a match in the clouds and watch the flames rise
Fire-water falling from these grey skies,
To painted trainlines
Chrome over redbrick, reflective:
Like a gemstone in a sesspit
Jehst gives belief to a skeptic
The truth neglected like open wounds that turn septic,
Infected by the forked toungue of a liar
Now my thoughts are the color of fire
And my nights spend one in the kaya
Uninspired by the freak-show, I see ghosts dance in the trail of my weedsmoke
My words are folklore... that survived the cold war:
New World Order, and so forth...
---I go north, ankle deep in snowfall,
leaping over dry stonewalls with a hold-all
Steam clouds rise from my firey breath
It's the last twilight before the silence of death
cant mess with that..
