A Breakthrough, to make you live with your descisions…to put you in position. Your one of us… Dottin’ COMS, droppin bombs on such a fragile system. The “Rounds” of a victim. VT to CT, and back. To know when our feelings react, with multicolored caps. Your sanity wouldn’t last, and to that we laugh. Oh the eyes of a deprived past… Cut the “highs” when physical systems collapsed.
Chris and I are about to bring reality to this shit, my fear is the world is reading us crooked
It felt like we were waiting for decades so we took it for the dictatorship
I spell and pronounce the prophecy, it seems like this establishment kept its commonwealth naïve and illiterate
They taught them to spew out all this happy go lucky rhetoric
(Chris) Handling, ATAXIA to the MAX. While…Structures Keep You Trapped. With your head up high, at that. Lose the diet of meds, then fast.
The macabre, I depend on it
Without it I’d be a happy invalid
Chasing Dreams that aren’t what they seem, rearrange my knuckles as I blow off steam
Add a dose of hate; let’s get down to the shit
Raise my digits quick but it’ll never be the end of it
(Chris) Evidence suggests that we stay away, from rat feins, who say they can Hear Our Pain. …And their brains can maintain, if we refrain, …from exposing their dreams of a higher place. So, wear the shoes of a holder to “constant change”. Feel hate, when we feel collective embrace.
I was a lost soul, I lead by example
Bred to be a prodigy, with new souls to trample
I’ve got phantoms on my shoulders assembled; get side tracked by backwards emotions but I stay central
I’m fuckin mental
We swerve to the fast lane and the speed of sound stutters, we are raising prodigies
In the distance you hear thunder
In my periphery
I sense wonder, What’s their history? Where do they come from? Why should this mean shit to me?
Mix double definitions of illness, a dual diagnosed calamity, Affluent in the language of insanity
God fucked with us, and we waited patiently, Spat modern Shakespeare in a brilliant rhyming pattern
If Men come from mars, then we originate from motherfucking Saturn
And If God is real, and then may he grant me the serenity to fuck you up
Let you feel the pain of the lepers
Let you Run out of Luck
(Chris) Fuck “The We”, Feed on 3 more. They contribute to a Farm-Party Of Four. Then feed the youth the main cause of war. Take a look. Fucking open your eyes. The drugged hold our streets with positive vibes. All the time. Steelys or Red Wine. Your superiors live life. Forget mine.
Blame it on the Drugs, and the medicine?
Or the material that is made from ambition and pseudoephedrine
Write a Best seller without pills, well I’m dead then
I guess it’s cool for people to torture you half your life, domestic abuse for six years due to your own strife?
But Boy, you can be a born again Christian
My father paid his tribute, and the bullshit he will listen
I’ve got two brothers and mother and that’s my family
Chris and I are just beginning to stand tall; my father means fuck all
The Devil closed the door but I pick a good lock
I’m making six figures while getting taunted by a demon holding his Sesame street Cock?
I spew rhymes like rounds from a Glock, thinking about the days when my statistics were snug next to a blade in my tube sock
You say you feel my pain, I should be happy?
Are fucking stupid, or Just Daffy
I told you hate begets a book contract, so motherfuckers stay out of contact
I wrote a love poem to make up for what the world lacks
We hear abuse not a clap
This is Truth not rap
And I already killed cupid
I ostracized his wings, see you knew because you use his freshly cut ideology as your bling, you hypocrite romanticized normal thing
(Chris) From the start, when sick, we sip potion. Then move on to the next forward motion. This could seem beyond my comotion. So Take A Minute and let make locomotion. …OF the word, your hopes in, a better world to loathe in. Start to feel you incline, slopin.