What's in There?

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Odder Colors

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I always keep a spare flare on the hip
What's in the marrow give that tarot a flip
What's in a miracle shit
Ask a seraphim I'm barely a blip
In the stereo width full clip in a barrel of fish
A fish in a Peregrine's grip I'm real aware of the crypt
I ain't scared of it bitch I live there with thin hair
I'm thin air in a blimp I'm airing these parable scripts
Just to parody embarrassing shit that I'm scared to admit
And it carries momentum it's making the carousel tip
Giving you intimate clues into my genuine truth
With decadent rhetoric sure to give a parrot a lisp
In other integral news
I'm Ken Wilber meets Ben Stiller if he read Rilke
Distiller of cyclical loops
With nothing but flesh and a mesh filter literal proof
The pinnacle is synonym for slipping the groove
By slipping a wrench in the fuel injector of the trench tiller
Full tilter gold silver quest fulfiller
My stroll kilter through a deadbolt pilgrimage
Hold stiller than a zendo syllabus
Soul spiller in a fleshcoat built for it
What the f*ck is in there?
It's all pivoting a wasted youth
Into happy affirmation for my subliminal made you look's
Caught between making way for the new
And trying to crazy glue back in my favorite baby tooth
Breaking news there's something out there Mr Magoo
It's liminal grace laced icaro space whistle tunes
A face to face interview with the crazy atypical
A tasting room of navy blue cinnamon praline flavored ooze
What is in there?
I don't even know what this is
Mostly copious rodeo flips over the world's loneliest möbius strip
So grab the guacamole and chips
No braggadocio emoji for this
Yo what's in there?
It's a black box
Mystery machine
It's my mascot
Yo what's in there?
Is it padlocked?
Can I get a peek?
I just can't stop
Yo what's in there?
It's a black box
Mystery machine
It's my mascot
Yo what's in there?
Is it padlocked?
Can I get a peek?
I just can't stop
Yo what is in there?
A bunch of tubes
And a neural network convinced it no longer eats monkey food
Yo what's in there?
A lot of water
In a fertile crescent convinced that it has a lot to offer
Yo what's in there?
Pressurized calliope steam it's hardwired to these ivory keys
I start fires in my diamond mind refinery to find a release
Some peace and quiet is the smartest thing I've MacGyvered in weeks
It gets loud in there
This jack in the box is lost at the country fair
This Gravitron is a shatter-box of scowling stares
The cotton candy is a sonogram of howling air
Yo what is in there?
A sub-atomic dance party
Of unnaccosted cads charged with under arm hand farting
That's a really weird headspace
I'm dead weight when I feel I'm getting near the end game
A fresh case of left brain pillaging my net gains
The stress of success hangs on my neck like a french braid
Yo what's in there?
No way to detect with an x-ray
So either it's lead based or it's based in a truth that is so basic
That closing your mouth is the only sure fire way to taste it
Still the populous intoxicant is pure light third eye Lasik
An easy thirty-five payment certified baseless
Way to purify the self and desertify the matrix
An un-inhabited body is a curious mind wasted
Simple as sign language
My temple of times ageless
A kinesthetic sense of my density vibrating
Yo what's in there?
Nerve bundles in burnt runnels and cord knotted sore spots
Deservant of the word uncle
Hornlocked the stork and the morgue as a sure shot
Humbled while this warm clock crumbles
For sport and i'm popped bubbles
Yo what's in there?
It's a black box
Mystery machine
It's my mascot
Yo what's in there?
Is it padlocked?
Can I get a peek?
I just can't stop
Yo what's in there?
It's a black box
Mystery machine
It's my mascot
Yo what's in there?
Is it padlocked?
Can I get a peek?
I just can't stop

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