Cocoon

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Sorce Manifesto

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Your vision will only become clear when you can look into your own heart
Who looks outside dreams, who looks inside awakens
Controlled controlled, controlled creation
I called my muses in for self isolation
45 minute meditations, controlled creations
Written by a hand that never even touched a pen
It happens like that every now and then
Channelled thoughts from a land thats lost, sending me to find its shores
I closed my eyes and I saw the course
Choppy waters led to rocky roads, still couldn’t stop the souls
Purpose, it was born perfect way before I hit this globe
Swimming through the rivers, stepping over mountains
Alkaline water in my fountains, close encounters
Of the third eyes, my view was the birds eye
Flying through the sky moving turbines, I heard signs
From my angels as they whispered in the wind
You’re bred to take flight like your kin
I got the heart of my grandfather, prisoner of war
My ego sought contentment but my spirit wanted more, this yours
Locked in our cribs, confined to these spaces
I’m taping in to uncharted greatness, controlled creation
Fires being lit and burned into pages
My pen turning words into paintings, controlled creation
Calm before the storm I’m still while awaiting
The next spark of source inspiration, controlled creation
Looked into my heart, the scene was amazing
I move like the moon through these phases, controlled creation
40 candles lit my tables like an altar
The sage smoulders, all praise to the grade growers
They stayed open, running quintessential businesses
Nature still moved through these instances
The soils fertile it was waiting on the seed
Sometimes we advance through retreat
I’m in a room with amethyst walls, and white sand at my feet
Germinating plans through a beat, this CC
The first chapter, foresight wrote my book backwards
Former of the latter, thoughts molded into matter
It’s sure to shower, guaranteed reign forecaster
The hue on my wings favoured amber, the gold standard
My homes hanging and its unsettling
Especially with this wind whistling
Man its hard to sit still knowing take off is imminent
This the flight of the unlanded immigrant
Locked in our cribs, confined to these spaces
I’m taping in to uncharted greatness, controlled creation
Fires being lit and burned into pages
My pen turning words into paintings, controlled creation
Calm before the storm I’m still while awaiting
The next spark of source inspiration, controlled creation
Looked into my heart, the scene was amazing
I move like the moon through these phases, controlled creation

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