OK ME AND PHRANTIK DID A COLLAB ABOUT WAT WE BOTH THOUGHT WHEN WE USED THE TERM 'INK BLOTS'
REAL DEEP STUFF
ALSO IF U DON'T MIND LET US KNOW WAT U THINK WHEN 'INK BLOTS' IZ SAID
MY VERSE
Ink Blots on my paper while i'm contemplatin my lyrics in deep thought//
I write them intensely cuz i'm caught up, so i just can't jot//
Somedayz i recall writin extroadonary pieces only to remember the ink blots changed 'em up//
This metaphorical anointment haz me freqently rhymin comotions//
My message constanly sent but wat never got their waz the annotion//
People jaded from the absence of my lyrical potion//
But on the contrary my rhymes are the opposite of arbitrary//
These ink blots are inordinary//
Extroadinary//
Like a censor, just altered out of nowhere//
Instead of my message sayin go there its come here//
These ink blots are my fear//
Lead me to tears for years, i try and put it back in the rear//
Of my mind, These ink blots y does it have to happen to mine//
With out them I could do just fine//
If not better//
I'd love to execute and just be-head-her//
But it was my beatiful mind that fed her//
Its almost like these aren't my rhymes, its co-ownership//
There is 2 artists in my head like I'm dicentric//
PHRANTIK'S VERSE
Obsessed thoughts of war and peace, of happieness and sorrow /
My mind is racin with so many ideas I wont finsh them til tomorrow /
So choose one, I must, throught boom and bust, pic one to write my rhyme /
I keep on thinking not noticing that ive become a victim of time /
The clock tics by faster and faster, and im trapped in its world /
Some many things happening at once my head has already twirled /
Around in circles I chase my thoughts thinking of what to write /
I sit and I think with my pen sittin still all through the night /
Its seems to be 9 pm, but it already it is 3/
And I sit and think over about what my rhyme will be /
And finally Im hit with an idea, the light goes off in my head /
To sit and write about how time flys and how soon I will be dead /
Another few years my life will pass, ans I will be buried down deep /
How in a few years my heart will stop and ill be left to sleep /
The ink starts pourin, rippin the paper dyin it an inky blue /
Spillin ill rhymes about how time made a victim of us two /
We rush through life not savouring it, we should enjoy every day /
Write down or thoughts, and describe our world and not let it slip away /
Make ink blots with our wonderful thoughts write everything down in a book /
So when the time comes and your ready to pass, you can open it up and look /
You've faced the joys and depressions and how they've helped you grow /
And how the pen you hold in your hand has tought you all you know /
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