Lyrics:
nuance
They create silence
The center will not hold
This heat
Dead end lands
Where nothing listens
Space tourism time!
cuto-programmed sabotage?
Have
my friends inside of my head keep shouting disorder
When I replay the things that I’ve said
I wish it was over
Let them say I’m better off dead
through ulcers
You tapping to the rhythm I'm fingering for the pulse
But the fumes like it's dead
The news bad weather, told Q
We get through it make
themselves when the word
Leaves other writers will
Pretend that it is still there
Even though the word is dead and
Buried
Many famous writers do this
And many
that bind the agony within
A place where angels fear to tread
A wasteland for the living dead
Inside a viscous circle is the means to an end
that bind the agony within
A place where angels fear to tread
A wasteland for the living dead
Inside a viscous circle is the means to an end
to see it’s sucked flesh
Pulled by days of dirt and
Degrade from the gentle
Center of it's lower jaw
And you saw
All that was soft to it now had left
Only
Flashes, [?]
In the end, nine acquitted assassins, post traumatic
Had to go back to lighten the load of the allostatic
In my present flesh body
The center
itself
I ain't hit him where he want, we prolly nicked his melon
They gon' load him on that surfboard and get him help
I felt bad cause center circle
bet them niggas not wit' it
Choppas too big, we gon' aim at his fitted
I be too dead of the weed, had to wake up
We line 'em up, he get cut for
on your dome like I'm Mario say sorry no put a glory whole
In the center of your dome with the forty four
I don't rep anybody like a sun flower seed I spit
That thick red fluid once gulped down looks inviting
Should I dive in or sink myself?
I know this place and why I'm here
The center and the source
and cheated
Cut corners outside
I've tried and I've failed
Stood tall when they'd run
I've fought a cold war
In the dead of the hot sun
Now take me back
came back from vacation
I was on the way, got blinded by my reputation
Find me center stage, but I can't send my location
My surroundings ain't
forgot bout
But not I, this for those who remember little Popeye
And I remember hot guys, ridiculed the flow
Now I'm front and center nigga, haters
exquisite
While my cousin dead and gone
I can't wait to go and visit
Father time, don't deny me
I just need a couple minutes
Exercise my better nature
and to die is gain
David Wilkerson
I’m already dead, I’m not my own!
K. P. Yohannan
I’m not my own any longer
Paul Washer
Jesus said, ‘If any man
conqueror
Give I the teachings of the scripture
Media brainwash center
Spreading lies and spreading war rumors
Propaganda, me beg for more truth sir
Give me
it's, deep
Equivalent to the esophagus, spreads to scientists
a.k.a. Optimus Prime -- time, television is, dead
on this issue and very much irrelevant
I have betrayed my inhibitions
Awakened the devil in me
Traded emotional moments of closeness
To fill up the void you tore through the center of me
your
Girl you let her make it
Now who pulled her through when
She needed her a portion
But who left yo' ass in
The center of the ocean?
She fucked her
the illness that infects your immunes
And leaves you quite dead
Who'd believe, who'd have conceived
Our book was already read
Oh, but God can save us all
spies and murderers
Wrapped in plastic like Dominican furniture
I put the iron in you, like the center of Earth's curvature
And make your block turn into
of the dead.
An incessant noise echoes in my skull,
It twines and vibrates down my spine.
Fanning out to the raw endings of my nerves.
The noise grows
.jpg/300px-Lincoln_Center_Overview_(48047495362).jpg "Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra")
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