Dalek

Dalek - Distorted Prose songtekst

Je score:

  

 





Broke stride as last of men realized their deep deceit.  

This troubling advance of half-assed crews crowd these streets.  

Never mind of who I am, son, just listen when I speak  

Broken paragraphs hold wrath of a hundred million deep.  

Bleak circumstance led masses to only want to dance  

A bastard child of Reaganomics posed in a B-Boy stance  

Make our leaders play minstrel, Left with none to lead our people.  

How the fuck am I gonna shake your hand, when we never been seen as equals?  

Deemed evil by those housed in church steeples.  

False prophets read backwards from broken tablets to the feeble,  

I seen you!  

Regurgitate their lies.  

I'll bide my time with scrolls and ancient's wine.  

Heady brew left mark on this hazy scribe.  

If stars align I suppose even the blind will see,  

How they stole our last voice, corrupted culture into industry.  

Few minutes remain,  

A tame soul wanders wild when it dreams.  

Mine are filled with ill visions of soot and dope fiends.  

These slit wrists won't rest till I spill these last drops.  

Tarnished skin only sin when I awoke on sidewalk.  

      

	              

Seen your movements through peripheral  

Remain same individual.  

When a man's viewed as criminal to act animal is logical.  

     

	              

Audible tones honed to hold substance  

Form sentence  

Poor reluctant poet, speak prose   

Refuse to beg repentance  

  

                  

Reluctant poet speak prose  

Incite our peoples  

We got raked through those coals  

Once the truth was divulged.  

 

                  

Conscience calls thoughts subliminal  

Actions all cyclical  

Deplorable descendants of men depressed clinical.  

Answers seem visible when visionless  

Useless souls fold under pressure like hands pray to false Jesus.  

     

	              

Inadequate adversaries advance awkwardly.  

Anger expressed outwardly  

Causes ranks to break amongst these frail MC's.  

   

                  

Your fictional tales told with conviction.  

Concise concepts once written enter bloodstream   

since this inks been forbidden.  

   

                  

Distorted poet, speak prose  

Incite our peoples  

We got raked over coals  

But the truth's still untold.  

   

                  

Meaning lost to these zealots  

Prefer bullets to ballots  

Watch the rich sip from chalice  

As these eyes fill with malice  

Peasant hands remain callous  

as our days retain darkness  

I swallow razor blades to keep my vocal cords sharpened.  

  

                  

Morbid mixture of mistrust and anger paints picture.  

Perception now blurred words slurred to form scripture.  

 

                  

These sullen souls misinformed  

Storm gates of stronghold  

Strange fate that I chose  

Morbid poet speak prose.  

                 

				  

Tattered voices arose  

Red Blood written on scroll  

Escapes throat an ill flow  

For my violence atoned.  

Modest thoughts monotone  

Infant MC's play grown   

Found them hung in hallways   

from cords on microphones.
Vind dit lied op:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Auteur: ?

Componist: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Taal: Engels

Deel je mening

Dit formulier wordt beschermd door reCAPTCHA en de Google Privacy Policy en Servicevoorwaarden zijn daarbij van toepassing.

0 Reacties gevonden