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the mind is in control of the city from its divinity

to the vanity, the unholy sub-urban trinity

how pretty, the city, but pity the ones in its web

hoping they fled from June back to February

the unnecessary variations of nothing very elementary

primary objective that no one can hear, very severe

revere the rhythm of metropolitan fear

the tempo is set in the network of traffic lights near

people like mountain deer fear wandering in the clear

existence depending on a light only visible from a distance

faces of solitude in resistance

the thesis, anti-thesis, synthesis

a rap dialect of rec-record releases

thoughts deconstructed into thin pieces

still while the element of skill increases



tic-toc I'm losing seconds every second

and I reckon the tic-toc is like

the sound of the rhyme of the weapon of time

letting the crime pass, forgetting the time cast

harassed to fast, making the moment last

gotta notice the line from where the boldest will find

everything they seek as the oldest in line

the predetestined sign to go testing, trying

and you know you can't tell if they're resting or dying

this city can only breathe through graffiti and oak trees

note please the treaty immediately evoke these

memories of summer breeze and sunshine

I hope these are the memories that once shine like a punchline

through the lazy hours of lunchtime or breakfast

champions quietly getting reckless

the diamond neckless syndrome that might infect us

intoned correctness, the homo erectus



toxic osmosis of musically venomous elements

is the natural result of the most recent developments

like elephants running through the streets and settlements

no eloquence, every single word is without relevance

the prevalence of mass hysteria ever growing

lyrical dams to prevent the rhyme flowing

and the deeper the darkness the brighter the glowing

of knowing the answer before the wind starts blowing

so you run from everything you can't quite conceive

and relieve the mind from the stress

leave behind the rest, be divine to vest 

the interest into nothing but the monetary gains you invest

the artist formerly known as Metropolis

a goddess, topless, chocolate apocalypse

modest reckless regards to the gods, what are the odds?

greeting cards from the foot of the Acropolis