woes are infinite woven in the script slow mo syndicate blowin o’s in the whip pressed breaks on the road alone singing this …ode for the bones that be broken as homes till he Froze in the snow from the toes to the finger tips clothed in the smoke they be hideous take a photo it’ll last far longer than the past – arch nemesis dark art – last messages, spilled over this beat indeed the chap ill as the Sistine and still the mad skill been a mystery had it hidden from sight since he was 15 in deep as the titanic ship, looms. writes a sign saying ‘I’m captain smith’ yeah the languid, sank to the chime of the ticks and tocks on the rocks by tide till he tips woes are infinite woven in the script slow mo syndicate blowin o’s in the whip cigarettes got ya boy athletic the blue hues compliment the aesthetic we all doomed but we still gon get it smoke to letter best believe we never dead it – check it man a rise with migraine, my manoeuvres real silent like a bike lane. I’m bling blinging like a nice chain suades on like I don’t like rain and he never did. stumble into puddles with the pen equipped. wetting this, page, with the letters in rage holy ghost – devilish ways n he blow smoke heavenly still in hell he remains still peep the shine like several chains see em hang from the neck – this is death in a way, wait… the sour mouths must develop a taste it’s old friends in old ends but it was never the same lemony haze in the skin, time brings shade to the sins and C got the grade with a grin meanwhile he and Kiina lock the vibe tactically n got looms. in the cut, to run it quite languidly let that dissolve like the acid sheets we 3 be the cavalry repeated it bashfully with these blems sucked for sense in weeks needing sanity peep the languid, illiterate flows we oh so branded by the imminent woethe mans cack-handed but he gripping to hope and still trapping the sadness where the rhythm erodes so he used to sit at the coast. winds whip the face till the vision would go converted to 3rd eye sight in the rhymes catch him in the act and avert thine eyes.no peeking. flow most evenings. oceans of moments and tomes of their deepness… and still he groan for the grievance sigh for the plight, stay lo stay breathing. why not though? confessed to a regular – had him dropping his strongbow. looms. rock cold to in the AM the mind be the window to the soul n its mayhem.target in reach. still like… cars on the street dark as the dreams as he starting to sleep oceans between when they start and they meet. so he parting the seas with the bars n the beats. like, yo, yo now why they laughing at me? “oh who? old languid looms.? heard he still run the beat in his battered shoes” listen close…hear them slap the grooves might ride on the lo when he back with shru. see blacks and blues, habits in a mess ashing cigarettes with the stanley in the vest. put the dagger to the flesh.then he waking up… grabbing at his chest.he a maverick at best rumor has it you can catch him dilly dally n his ends like…it’s rare when the tears come. but there’s no need to try.cos hope frees the mind on those most needed nights. n i know. the barriers of the race grow deep n wide but what’s a barrier between my OGs n i?yeah we might’ve hopped the gates.let the coloured nectar blotch the page.brothers strong as rocks of graves who rock the cradle to rock the stage.this is anything but a loss of faith. my girl still instills her holiness. hands cupping on my brokenness. dripping gold n dipping toes in it. i’ve only ever known your bliss. body gorgeous as the mind be but this pen isn’t gripped to sight see no. the darkness dries up as the lights bleed sometimes i hate the way that i find peace.and with that, the shoddy philosopher’s weak. weeks spent gobbling dreams and dreams spent lost in the deep. peep the magic in the mystery like Jonathon Creek.that languid oceans.looms. thicker than blood but heart on the sleeve to the tip of the cuff stay lo beats sitting in dust gripping the cup. down town living it up.yet again the sun’s dripping into dusk meanwhile they all scheme small, livid in a rush when there’s so much, much bigger than us. they all rats in the race that a kitty will clutch in due course. …they like “ooh lord he and HUE put on wax like madam tussauds yeah they too raw. straight to the infirmary and then the cell; burns and murder to the 3rd degree” bet you heard of shru like the birds and bees urchins. been seen lurking the streets, n the vermin would bleed these woes to the pad for them all to get lost in the tomes and the tracks broke but intact.who lower than that? ghost town phantoms.shru in the sky looms. losing the grip at the lo hop mansion HUE flick the lights all doomed to exist one time for the moon and the stars bloom in the dark as he croons at the marsh looms. losing his path.stagger to the flats again, grab bags of pathogens rooted in the craft like he stumped in the stanza.packing the gloom. babbling the blues feet tapping in the shoe enamored with the passion gotta gather academia to grapple with the jackals that be shackled to his features n the flames don’t shake em.nor does the gumption you find in the lines that he rhymes at the functions.my, what a bumpkin. ghost town inhabitants. still the city in the mist for the intransigent.4 bars in the corsa ontop a dylan beat shake of the bass make him drop the auxiliary.jot symphonies begotten in a deep state tryna live my life coming last in a speed race.yeah he might have been a minute. been at high seas with the spirits.never been about the now for that moment he was living in it.through ice and the snow,deciphering codes by the tide in a boat he’d rhyme to the chime of the coast in the nightin the night shining like lights residing in his bones.and it flickers with the highs and the lows.mimicking the sighs and the moans. now he fidgeting inside of these clothes. black suit, white shirt, leather shoes hit the promenade, drumming out depressive grooves.somehow coping with change,broken away from the fam then he awoke at the wake. nobody prayed like he did. he would mean it.we only beseeched it and how he’s bout to meet with,now he bout to meet with, everything he claimed was true. what if everything he claimed was true? this a game that we play where we’re made to lose maybe we create the truth. x2 now higher than the planes you used to fly. grandfather i’ve only been retaining your laugh.it’s not the same with it only replaying in hearts.you echo through the cold corridors of this hot head.the old cobbled shores and their soft beds. my simple mind and its complex.the deep end that lost depth.these are the words that arrived, too late for crowd and too early for i. if anything.if anything, I hope you see only this and not the woes in which I once chose to sit.now you move how the angels move and I prove to remain removed. but I know when I see the sun after it rains , it’s you.I hope everything you claimed was true.let the smoke dance pirouette in suns.he been a mess, given cest sitting kept in lungs. while the sinner wept and dribbled debt upon a page of a4 solemn days and shade like what is it we’re made for? remember when we’d meet and keep it illicit.speaking logistics, her day and keeping me in it. needed to live it just to get to see the chosen path for he who bleeds the broken artistry, haemoglobin harmonies and hypertension tetra chords drop out the vocal.float like the boats out in Constantinople. not nows for know-alls. time speaks of honesty In tones dry of modesty. throttling the prodigies clobbering the righteous. never understood so they colonized the island with weapons for woods. Embedded in the bush he found hope in himself and wrote notes soaked in oaths I hope nobody tells.shifting sands and shrinking plans in these injured hands; kick the crabs in the bucket.happy enough in the shack, slacking and slumped in his habits gagging to covet trapped in a parish of puppets…fuck it. this ain’t nothing but a testlover running for the best, covers flooding on the chest. sullen and depressed words woven just to wipe away the woe… to find the face.he cried for days still,silent sneers chime in titans ears and kids still grapple with the shadows in their bunk beds.the sands flow like rivers until the sun sets. the sands flow like rivers until the sun rests.’nough stress as the clock face screams so we puff cest for the lost day dreams, like…with this song he put the ruby to the lip. tongue tied lucy on the tip. dumb fights, mum cried, lucy in the whip.apple of the eye and now he chewing on the pip.every day same old shit different day now.all the grey clouds stay; shamed as rain pounds. chained down by fate paved since the stained gown.gritting teeth. the sinner sleeps in novocaine.pigment leaks, hidden cheeks from the focused flames.frozen frame in her knowing gaze to most, I’ve been closed off since the open day.too busy whipping dreams up for din dins.housemates pissy he never clean up the kitchen.ditch the dishes to switch for swishes.courting on the court he be spitting to ya mrs.red handed – stigmata on the lords daylumber home tail dragging on the walkway. he only ever ate the gourmet in poor taste.now he gnaws on the corpse till the jaw aches.the old me. sold sleep from the dealer.cold feet, the soul weeps. need a healer.i can be the feature… she can be the star for sure. in her golden fleece, it’s me her and the argonauts.wading through the week with the baggy in the north face poorly with the jury catch him hanging at the court case. saw the floor shake just before he saw enoughthe awkward bunch scribble scripture sitting here with dorn till dusk. n nine.two moves bodies to the beat.dance till they hobbling n wobbling the knees got us rocking with the cheese like,do the cab calloway glad the rap caliphate had got the lad to salivate balance is the crux. had him blathering the hidden debtto shadows in the cracks when he has to ash the cigarette.tackling the winter with the zoots in superfluity as lucid as the lunacy he uses for the euphony. losing sleep. who is he? shit he wish he knew himself he used to use the dreams to move between the truths to tell.soon to sell his soul to own the one and only remedy oh, blow the evergreen n float below the destiny.the loss of life he be dying to tell.the conduit rocks fluid – rhymes writing themselves.skies colliding with hells,by the slaughter house he saw the cows and likened himself…a nice night for the smell. tides rise and the shells get buried in the blue.fermenting in the hue singing necessary truths. embellish in the mood till he nestled on the moon.fuck the party – he was smelling the venom in the room. let the neck snap straight get beheaded on the tune.when the weapons are the letters he be messaging you doom. like, ‘umm.. what is MF you silly?’, looms. in ya room he be pillaging the city. shit he, came and left draped in total silence.came back once again to make you close your eyelids battling himself. slap shackles on the shell.hear screams from the dreams as he damaging the cell. ah well. now you know this shit the most languid but you know this shit.with j a r j a r on the beats yeah you know this shit.from the RG to Ireland we own this shit.ah well ah well, clone the scripts like the others do. numb enough to nullify the drug that they succumbing to.sucking up the subterfuge. just to prove the garms are baggy for a reason.they be carrying the demons, sat cackling and screaming. he back slathered in dread and broken epiphanies.yeah he so capricious flow religious when the rivers deep. up-stream trudging, cradling the sinners dream.sunken in the sour notes satiating symphonies. inner peace like the light at the end of the underpass. needles on the steeple – going up in arms. nothing lasts but the feeling of the fleeting so its smoke to the throat till it’s leaking on the ceiling he be gleaming. “Just wait until they figure outit’s a man possessed when the riddles dribble out.”scribbling the lyrics as he fidgeting about if they missing what is written they’re forgiven for the doubt ah well catch him kissing sheets candidly cling to sleep frantic as the missing piece majesty shimmers in her sanity.grab the spindle, weave tapestries. delineating dreams that breach canopies. the sinner bleeds blasphemy and weeps in his handsthat drips rivers to the script that he speaks to the lands. still he been evasive, in a mist of fickle faces. progression in the pain like he mirrors irenaeus still a kid. maybe frame depicts a doubt or two.or how about the down and out demeanor during how-di-dos? suck sour fruit. smoke, rise altitude.sitting on a star, watch mountains move.crash landing at the crib, wrapped in habits -what a bliss. pariah with the passion cack-handed in the sticks. babbling the practice of a man who been a myth, yeah it’s looms. now it’s atlas as he dabbles in his. so we splittin, flames lick the reeboks. hot as hell walkin with the lord like he Enoch.let em speak not. kissing the feet of the wicked while the wise man whittles the insipid. shit he been acquitted with the peasant at his side. swerve from the birds lost feathers in the flight.churning the words, terse, tethered in the time till the elemental message in the effervescent mind bubbled over… n beautified the black spots.so we keep it moving in a stand off.while the stand still traffic on the main road’s tackling the days as they allocate the way home.yeah we changed if you say so.you can keep the shade if it rains bro yeah you know we calm.n we keep the hustle till the ending credits.let em think we never meant it. blacking out from white light. bll is grey in hindsight.colours of the zeitgeist –pen and pad defines time.looms. in the loops thinking maybe he might write.‘instead of righting wrongs; the mic is on in the limelight’.wrapped in rays. blankest face at the soirée.eyes lit alone penning everything he can’t say.the reflection granted entry to the furnace.saw the token bones in a broken home – unfurnished.overdosed on sober tones… and in earnest i been working. at least I’m feeling like it anyways.toys out the pram. voices echoing; ‘for heaven’s sake.’featherweight benevolent weapon setting to detonate. n wreck the place with sarcasm and the tainted wit he paints on his alias quick. the same as this. paced it now the jaded kid spits pink pigments.tongue tied. now we know why they told him to shrink figments.we the iller citizens.gully in the cut.face fuzzy – with the fucked strange tummy from the drugs.run amuck n took the sacrilege to sanctuaries damaging the faculties the maverick he has to be. slathered in the sanity he rocking like designer garms. we the gruff ruffians vibsing in the park. reciting all the bars about how he was made shadiest,based this defaced alias on flames he raised satan with. he stays wavy getting heavily sedated setting memories in pages like they’d never been invaded. the most languid and he shouldn’t have to tell you that.he and cee like to rap well and we seldom rap. liquid flows in the grittiest of cities all about the lizzie, sucking silly on his ciggies. what a pity. Keeps it on the low know we gonna get it we just gotta let em know rain sleet hail snow prada polo kenzo drowning in yellow, half of the endo we can hit the dojo for some kendo see me whipping in the slo mo e bento you might hear c on your cd or see me on hood dvd shouting out are you really listening? there’s bare things on the wrist and theyre glistening i got water like babies at the christening he be lifted on his ones again.love the lack of light; an appetite for when the sun descends. flash back to swearing he’d never be one of them.if you hate the now by default do you love the end? it’s fucked up that dumb luck got him this far. vold solders quick march living to be discharged. kids laughed all bathing in their naivety. dave face and raise the front that few have seen beneath. philosophize in private; let the pastor preach looms. up on a m a n n y beat. that’s a banger guaranteed.manic dreams. fallacies and catastrophes hack the seams of reality. grab the haberdashery.”damn it he’s gotta hiding inside the higher plain?” lack of friendly memories. it’s time to let the mind erase. like he ever could command it. heart’s the darkest.she laughed n ate it regardless without the garnish.starving artist. need to be eating his words cos they equate to the pay that he be seeking in verse. see that’s an argument he never willing to instigate.but push comes to shove and scraps occupy the dinner plate.sick of love… sick of trust… sick of fate.sick of time – he ain’t itching to grip a zimmer frame.searching for nirvana… nah nevermind.down n out getting high. clown about with pennywise.the first impression you’re boxed within.if I’m worth redemption I’ve got to sin.all the situations I’ve got us in, now we play fight in the apocalypse.hop scotching on monuments.stubborn as the skyline,that splits and rips to fractals in the centre of the minds eye.night skies rejected for prime time switch on and switch off as it flies by tick tock the game goes on but you won’t watch on the sideline.flames licking the wing span, saliva singeing memories.baring scars. tearing hearts, ventricles dropped on cemeteries.bombs away. you’ve got to stay.forgotten days and solemn ways.yeah I’m still the same guy… still weary of the cost of change.while the lost shot rocking costly chains, guess the blocks hot but the frost remains.gotta change the scenery.rolling hills over made machinery.at my boldest I’m innocuous. blindfolded in the metropolis, i did the jitterbug till I split the rug and danced before the populous.cavorting till the raucous stopped, and they eventually conformed and rocked.swaying side to side, like pendulums placed before the gods.so maybe we are programmed…still I’d switch the channel. and If it’s a stream we’re rowing down I need to find a different paddle.one without these holes in.gazing at the present in the past. wonder if forever could ever last. It’s getting dark. floating home n the street lights are flickering. head full of bars and a frame slowly withering. walk light feet tickling the bitumenthe sinners sitting covered in his cynicism shivering. hence the heated discussions to warm his hands again. frost bites the fingers still it’s easier to grab the penthan it is get up off his lard arse. to stand up and standoff with a hard stance. half-hearted efforts; credence the clever ruse. if you choose not to listen you’d never know that you never knew.i wrote this for you. i wrote this for you.don’t you know I wrote this for you?i guess not.still the ink dries quicker than he jots it down. boulders on his shoulder still he’s colder when they’re not around. forgotten grounds are where the memories are left… better blame the botanist for the way makes them hostages, and this rotting esophagus.clocking the obvious but what time is it? now he’s got a mic to grip he’s silencing the sirens n the like that tried to stifle him. fruits of his labor ripening; eyes widen at the sight of it still. back on track like rehabilitation. still a heathen in the making dreams of demons in the basement again. grotesque figures, bodies all contorted. swam inside my thoughts till i’m forced to wanna forfeit.yet again forgetting who I’m meant to be. blame the evergreen presented as the remedy. on the 7th day he would always set the scene. hetting waved till the 7 seas came a calling.he waits to meet the mariner upon a thousand rocks. look him in the eye and ignore the albatross.presence deafening as the sounds of god. the whispers and murmurs break waves and shatter docks.sending shocks through the planet; cracking at the granite.the multi-story plazas where visits are a habit. it swallowed every juice bar and hollister shop leaving the temple burnt down like Solomon’s was.said before how he’s walking at the deep end. ironic how he’s far from only getting his feet wet.he wept till the heavens ripped. Time to reminisce on the emptiness. His nemesis and so,choose to ignore the regrets in hindsight.oh how the time flies.Oh how the time flies.people spend their lives tryna clip its wings. let your image flood the dreamscape. bitter love, sweet fate. these days he stays in pocket like the keychain. we all got a price – this feeling like it’s prepaidshe breathes flames. Post-kiss can’t see straighthands match how they did in the past. joints clicking in the dark gripping the shit to be sparked. snout snogging till he spitting the tar. been a small circle since the spliffs in the park.sucker scuffing up his kicks – kick em in the car. long roads got him thinking how the innocent could last. guilty of the lack of It. Pacifistic paladin.night time knight belly yellow as the lanolin.handling the baggage got it wrapped up in its packaging. the hole you left inside of me is one you hold a candle in. so go ahead – investigate the landscape. patch up the soft spots trampled in the rampage.stuck in the seams of the underachieved.he run amuck at the scene just for something to be.schmucks judge from the meet… tick the meter… time is running out. from a place of fuck abouts. young’ns running sucking snouts.ducking when mothers out. sons are just above the clouds.getting lifted. necking spirits. so hedonistic.i said i did it, on more than one occasion.the force of such a statement got my core always aching… see I’m dropping bits of me!ripped beneath the skin, then slipped within the soliloquies. potent as an acid flash back. Ever had that?got you crawling through that cat flap.memories ransacked. i’ve seen the purple skies… the lie that is validity. the whiteness of the eyes in the mind that lost rigidity bending till it snaps again. spending till i’m trapped again. stacking pennies to grab a 20s no plan of any man could ever be anything less than heavenly. why can’t you let him be? the thought is wishful.dreams? He got a fist full. it don’t mean piss all since I signed with my initialsbut now I think of it, don’t remember if I had the choice. forced into existence got me thinking its plan deployed.he said goodbye to the dreams. revised and “achieved”and what a waste it was waking up to die in his sleep. this life is what you like it to be.let time hold your hand. shimmy till the sun sets. clock hands leave you undressed no need to worry bout slipping off that sun dress,or your dancing shoes.stretch and start to move ‘after you’ lord knows he’s chivalrous but never hesitates to take your innocence. shit, I was still a kid. playing piggy in the middle watching cartoons and giggling. too small to see where the mirror is daddy kicked him in the ribs again. the image flickers when Im slipping into bed still i’m waltzing in each of the seasons. tryna supersede these demons please believe it.no home – a nomad slow growth till bones snap. so trapped but won’t crack cos time waits for no man.but we wait for him to take away our life force n strip us of the things that we fight for.time heals all he also assassinates can he die? What would it have to take?can time kill time itself? i guess we all kill time when it’s time to melt.he came out of thin air. plucked from a vision darkness arrived n he succumbed in an instant.the son of the system. Immortal yet ephemeral chemicals can end it all. turn the grey to an emerald. it’s too simple if seminal’s digestible. don’t mind the peers making spectacles of genitals. forget the present but reject it when the heavens call. make you question all you are then vanish i’m inspector Goole actions imply that he loves the regret suffering less when the skunks bunned and up in his chest. stash under the bed. above are the puddles of sweat. transcendent but still stuck in the mesh write it off as taradiddle back in the shack n crippled carrying sacrificial lambs like a pack of gristle scapegoats as he changes into plain clothes. stay lo. dodging bobbies in this rain coat.to mask the halo that only he can recognise methodise dimensions from the present to the second life take to heaven skies excavate and televise. let the masses see the barren land they were set to find. every second’s like certain eternity. been to hell and back strapped with burns to the third degree lurch to emergency then murmur in surgery telling tales of the mishaps of purgatoryEven the vermin bleed n cry to the cosmos this life in a lost plot is trite till the clock stops.still he survives wading his way through monotony. phantom of a man trapped in the forgotten prophecy. swimming in the sighs like the flow oceanic. boat loads of woe wrote grown over granite. zone to the static as the moon courus she be spinning on point in her blue tutu true true. yeah he might have dabbled in the dizz. younger him would think it’s nothing but a baggy full of grist. fuck the parish this is it. the labyrinth of lists and parameters to kiss with vocabulary twists – he has to. flat roof – tethered elevation. planes race clouds to a better destination. the sea of people where the heavens wait to take them and the meek weep supine; empty space adjacent. mr rose told him to move with his emotions; he used them as a raft floating wounded in this ocean. move through the motions, toes in the black sea.back stroke home kick flows in the back streets. we the lowest, and beauty of the earth flows fluid in the verse, we the lowest. yhyh. lo to the hop – yeah we the lowest, and the beauty of the earth flow fluid in the verse we the lowest. please believe.