Lyrics:
don't know what to do
Old honey day by the winter storm front
I open up the box that's wrapped with a grunt
But when I reach inside and see what's there
I
There's a primal circle circumventing the old gods
A private intervention to renew old thought
I'm only lighting fires, so call off your dogs
to go
If not for old, hard hands and
Well worn roads
Gently, but firmly I was guided as a child
By the hardened hands of a tough but wise old man
He
started off too late
We were a dream
Product of imagination
By a god unseen
He knew that we would be destroyed
He felt so old, yeah
He knew this was
that brings forth the Old Gods
Immortal wisdom
An incantation, guided by the sacred stones
A snowy path. A stone circle
The Seer has led me here
I
everywhere
I am a speaker, a beacon of light
Guided by truth, by what is right
For in the end, it's the words we choose
That determine the path we'll surely
and you're bright eyed
The sound of a voice inside
Guided by the stars in a straight line
We're chasing the sun tonight
Riding in the dark through a wildfire
What have I become
In the world that we made
My fate is guided by the force
My voice is pushing back and forth
You can not stop the flow of my vibe
When
That old door and low roof
Distinct smell of my youth
This aged room, is more than just a room
The block curves
The street lights
The crisp smell
As I breathe freely once more
I'm guided by
I'm guided by my River of Hope
I'm guarded by
I'm guarded by my River of Hope
Now again
Halfway there
TELL A VISION
Guided by your long and mean hand like a concrete disease. Guided by unearthly lights coming from the palm of your hand. All solid
sheep children
Following the heard
Guided by the voices
In their empty little heads
You are a milky tear
In the dead mans eye
In disguise
a war taking heads from men like Charles Taylor
And never seen the undisclosed foreign arms dealer
13-year-old killer, he look 35
He changed his name
dedication
Charged by the call and the cause of the nation
Countdown, minutes away from detonation
A lifetime of grunt work, this is the culmination
My
A Sultan of old Istanbul,
Had a varicose vein on his tool,
This evoked joyous grunts, from his harem of cunts,
But his boys suffered pain at the stool.
time
I heard you're guided by voices
Making mischief, they call you a sinner
You suck on the drug like you suck on my finger
A joint I'll surely
I'm seeing scalenes and belts in skies
I'm trying to hide the fact that I miss these same old walks I used to take every night
By the bench where two
measured confidence
I'm just a 27 year old bag of nerves and broken joy
Not my inner voice by choice
Bag of nervous broken joy
Not my inner voice by choice
weeks flew by
I still can't sleep at night, daydreaming of when we reunite
I wanna go back to the good old days
When you laid by my side
I miss those
energy, we don't adhere
We're stuck in the same old story
Bound by the dogma of cosmology
Lambda theory can't see the whole scene
Mister Petit, let's
guess
But yo voice mute on this other mess
Like how many more getting shot by the cops?
What can you do to make sure that it stop?
You got a voice to stop
out a casket, where I come from
Buildin' on their choices, I'm familiar with the voices that I never tapped on
Made two daughters by two different women
sun, when life was lonely
Once I was twenty years old
I only see my goals, I don't believe in failure
'Cause I know the smallest voices, they can
maybe reborn
Voices, voices, voices, voices
Voices of love, voices of flesh and blood
Heaven above, heaven is invisible
When we are old, body is old
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