Boh boh, bu-bu-bu bah bump bump boh
He taps the trash cans and plastic tubs,
double bass harmonics spill along the last hymn sung;
the music man dances with conductor stick in hand
while the crowds pile around the rush of simplistic trance.
Light breathes along the sides of Heineken mic necks
against silhouettes of a baritone trisect;
in the intersection he blows his fingers testing
his throat, warming up by harmonizing in notes
Do-do-do rey mi dooooo
Paper towel dowley tuba lays the tune of
the fifth symphony, he's playing una.
Two trash lids lift the focal instrument
as soprano vibrato echoes the increments.
Maestro plays right by through his lament
with head high in the boldest content.
Catered in the sixth octave the orchestrator,
three blocks in, lifts his arm and starts
to orate chords as the savor is stopped short...
as the flicker of a single finger strips form
from a man who's stamped by liquor and disfigure.
The notes tumble from a swollen eye
as the conductor stick wilts under a folded line;
staffs shatter and ruptured tics pass matter
and dissipate in the age old pain of social sty.
The man dies inside; mills off spilling nickels
and dimes along disappointment: the sidewalk.
He holds his pride in an old patched hat
that spills notes along his own in that last pass,
where dollar bills ran away with rey mi do
and the masterpiece was cheapened by the green of notes.
So he mopes off along another end prolonged,
still holding on to the little that's gone ...
but a musician isn't assuaded for long
as he passes a trash can and searches for songs.
http://rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=307189
http://rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=308057
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