This is the life under thunder storms, uppers like lightning and downers like Grunge Tic-Tacs
Those banging their heads to Kurt Cobain with their feet up in an upper class cul-de-sac
We live to learn the conscious expression is whack and society carries around flack because now being fat is worse than being black
Soak in the poison and believe in lighter days and lights at the ends of dark tunnels, believe that the chants and battle cries of a generation of that make believe that a brighter day shall come, as we burn Mercedes and thousand dollar tees
Beauty is only what you perceive
We rise with swords and guns as mother earth grieves
The noise drifts away and so do autumn’s leaves; it is we who should flee the smog and the desolate black clouds
The stories read aloud to children are corporate mechanisms and your sex life is a euphemism
The young boy plots revenge with slits on his wrists while his brother is in the next bar getting pissed
We fell in love with an antonym, waiting for the horns, flutes and the rest of Gabriel’s orchestra to begin
They sing and sing, buildings fall to the earth, but some could say this is a good start
the beginning, the birth without a hand held camera in sight
The wraiths write and the flickering lights from human indulgence splashes onto the scene like a bat out of hell
His words are hate out of heaven, we try to escape life unscathed but we lost so much time that we can’t find seven or eleven
We lost so many memories stored in the back of a machine
Your smile is that of a backwards gleam,
We don’t believe in family, don’t believe what’s said
What the fuck you going to do when you cut yourself and they criticize how much you bled
Fall back into the universe your peripheral blood red
The protest and the songs of the dead condone the joke and what we don’t know
We pray to a god and its divinity
We’d die for what we haven’t seen, just to fall from infinity
In a million years?
We’ll be happily searching through thousands years of rhymes and slime, but we go on searching line about you and me, we search for the crack of lightning that lets you understand an epiphany
Misspelling your future, we have an app for that
Talk back to the battle cries of a generation, will result in a crack or a slap
The greatest consumers of all, born into the era of crack
Hypocrites rendered into a higher place
The joke is that none of them know who they are at all
Small, skinny, black, white or tall, technology killed the Trojan horse as the entire history falls
We philosophize whilst snorting the purest lines
Party in South London while listening to grime
From every fight to all mankind, tessellate in their tirade, the art is that we laughed at all and the only crime is that they never allowed us to fall
Warmonger 