From The Recordings Html
...A song about vices.
Rabid dog, better ask me nice if I’ll be cooking hot sauce for your beans and rice.
You’re here right now, & audience you are chosen to hear this voice in your ear & you're frozen.
Gotta darken up the poetry / it aint all sunshine for everyone you see.
And when you’re lying in the trap, did I fail to mention? / You’re stuck punk bitch...you better pay attention.
There’s bliss for this, bliss for that...
Bliss for the temple-goers, and some bliss on tap.
May Dionysus bless your borrowed time,
And you can worship whatever “lionheart” you find.
Even at rock bottom, I’m a razor blade—sharp enough to cut the ties.
But if I take good stock, I’ve gotta find the shade and sit down till I'm ready to rise.
Could I leave a legacy—beyond this singularity?
One more onslaught from all I’ve got, this black hole aint takinig me.
Nananana, nanana-nana...I gotta get low down
Nananana, nanana-nana...to get up from the ground.
...Could I leave a legacy...After this singularity???
It’s dirty at the front door, boy wait your turn/I’m ‘bout to pop this clutch to highspeed burn.
But no “go” no “slow” China warming my shadow/my people fell away, it’s just the way it goes.
So, if you make it out alive you must satisfy, your black-leather lady telling you white lies...
W/cut wings, back smooth as raven’s claw...& she can stomp her feet to break your jaw.
It’s a sight beyond the Midwest mind/had widen that view to press rewind...
And to get on down while I'm telling a tale / I’m a break this rock to split that rail.
I gotta transform and then evolve / to solve this one-soul-son, I’m called.
While the hawks and the doves are counting out their lists, I’ll be slamming out the blues w/a hammer fist.