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don't bring my body home draped in a flag fuck a draft, fuck a war, fuck a patriot act sorry, am i being out of line or coarse? when the powers up high lie as a matter of course the dead will live again but the wicked meet they end the father kept you safe though you didn't see it then joe you'll be straight even though the road bend protect your soul, stay true to the end i wet the wicked with the fluid in the pen i shut the window on the devil's right hand i spun the record 'til the table can't stand children in the alley eating up the masterplan devils used to rock the white sheet to hide they sin they engineer elections telling us to count again stop the count, start a war before the count end meanwhile i'm scratching hard to enough to beak the damn skin wondering if the god they claim came down again he'd get crucified the same and broadcast on television they rituals of pain and blame ain't religion the lord could walk among'em and they still wouldn't listen don't bring my body home draped in a flag fuck a draft, fuck a war, fuck a patriot act sorry, am i being out of line or coarse? when the powers up high lie as a matter of course mother of harlots, your kingdom is fallen mask gonna crumble and your children go crawling calling for the mountaintop to tumble down and cover them how will they find mercy when they had none for their brethren still living in the woods alone turn the lights down low, girl, bend down low lemme catch a fire, tell you what i know when i plant my seed, babydoll, let it grow pop a cop but i don't cop a plea shoot down sheriffs, not a deputy burning, looting, bound to happen can't stop this evolution don't bring my body home draped in a flag fuck a draft, fuck a war, fuck a patriot act sorry, am i being out of line or coarse? when the powers up high lie as a matter of course..IMPEACH..
THINKALONE
DONTTRIP.
PHAT1
CAN2
MYLOVE.
EXIST
ASKEW
LOWRIDER
PLEYONE
You see the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Can't you tell the way they have to mention how they helped you out, you're such a hopeless victim. Please don't do me any favors, Mr. Intentional. All their talk is seasoned to perfection. The road they walk commanding your affection. They need to be needed, deceived by motivation, an opportunity to further situation. Why they're so important is without explanation. Please don't patronize me, Mr. Intentional We give rise to ego, by being insecure. The advice that we go desperately searching for the subconscious effort to support our paramour. Too engaged in denial, to admit we're immature. Validating lies, Mr. Intentional Open up your eyes, Mr. Intentional Stuck in a system that seeks to suck your blood. Held emotionally hostage by what everybody does. Counting all the money that you give them just because. Exploiting ignorance in the name of love. Stop before you drop because that's just the way it was. Please don't justify me, Mr. Intentional. So one-dimensional, Mr. Intentional Don't you do me any favors Wake up you've been sleeping, take up your bed and walk. Stop blaming other people, it's nobody else's fault. Accept the truth about you. You know that life goes on without you and Your expensive misinventions, disguising your intentions. Don't worship my hurt feelings, Mr. Intentional See I know you can't help me, Mr. Intentional. The only help I need to live is unprofessional. The only wealth I have to give is not material And if you need much more than that - I'm not available Please don't entertain me, Mr. Intentional. I don't need your sympathy, Mr. Intentional. Stay away from me, Mr. Intentional. So one-dimensional, Mr. Promotional, Mr. Emotional, Mr. Intentional
Pleyjourism: her speech is a foreign tounge to some her slang spittles and skits spits with a rhythm sung from a shaolin slum village her lungs pierced her blood stream runs and just seems clear it must be a rusty self esteem for her tears replaced by blood and her blood replaced by tears she's fucked up her luck stuck shut with akward scars Pley's connect the dots with a flaming rrain of shooting stars a punch drunk Dunk buzz was her image of what love was loved her scummy dunny Delph but felt his sound more, just cuz she drowns the world out of bounds with profound sound scapes and skates on dubbed tapes and needle-rubbed wax crates Hip-Hop is her blind date, she rocks a hoodie drowning a black gown cradles her scowl over a krylon dusk and spawned a crayola drawn dawn background she paces back and forth with a bouquet of bleeding feelings clutched whats wrong? besides her life? shyt,im guessing nothing much i heard she has a crush on death but it touched her once and hasn't slept observes her son in pleasant steps his spurts of words can ease her breath i know, i know she's upset, her best bet is blessing 40 ounces of omens who'll show her how she over-dosed on cold corrupted quotables but elijah's light of love is ominous a complex simplicity she holds his heart in hand and share an ambillical solliloquy you see, her swagger's up to somethin, son they bite and try to mimick her slang precision hook it up? na sista' change ya system look it up that's Pleyjourism
LEARNIT
.LIVEIT.
but most of all Andrew and Eric are my hero's. Pwned by Andrew and Eric, feds, you know what to do.