"And it goes but it goes so slow in This Life Ali (I lead). I let the past be the past be the past."

I blinked in spittin' teeth out! The seventh son of Set lovin' life between the freak outs. Rhymes and beats? How blessed could I be now! Shadowfax freakin' the Mark of the Beast, BLAOW! Melloy gravity, concrete. Mother Earth zygote, xenophobe, zombie. That's what dwelling in the past'll get ya - off balance with the frequency of silent Scripture. We let them trees blow! Psilocybin and a C-Note. See no need for the demagogues and the cogs need grease, yo. Jeez, though, can a mother fucker get some peace, ho? Dedicated to the plebs that have given up! Me and Dundiff never NOT gave a fuck! Matter fact, we laugh at the concept. Show me, what's the past to the conquest? Blow me.

Everything that shines ain't precious, baby. There's more than remorse in my briefcase lately. I'm the type advice seem contrived so sometimes these devices can seem out of line, but hey I see a new day coming. That's a sure fucking thing. I'm towing the crevice, no gods no kings. In the cusp of Resistance. Some call it persistence, I call it the Dream. We were once horns blown from the depths of the lungs of the very body of Love itself! Lil' Momma said I could take the world for myself but I'd rather sit alone and read these books on the shelf. Trade forty cold nights for one warm day because I've been wearing worry like it was worn skin. Like the sculpture creating the sculptor. Vultures circling sepulchers got me skulking, on 10.

Autonomy anomaly, chained by psychic shackles - just a piston on an engine that's flawed the very axles. The Tower fell apart and the lightning had hit the castle, I was outside hollerin' "Justice for the vassals!" I live like I'm out of hearts, regular Smallfolk. Farmer with emaciated ox and a flawed yoke. A Zero with a Thousand Faces. Tell Joseph Campbell I was sparking my last smoke. I have faith in a Force that can not be seen but stay based in a more mortal frame. It seems to some that I'm outta my gourd. My Lord have Mercy! That's the mantra that I fight for/write for. Sometimes what life is: caught up in the vices. Redemption's priceless. My word strong like Elisha's. I show up to the gunfight knife-less, likeness to a Jacob's Ladder matter, priceless.