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Champion of Day (Bringer of the Sun-Voodoo Pony)

Lokk9 on February 09, 2013 03:57

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    I took a beautiful track and did things to it:


    sun set on the roads like a bowl to cup
    one breath grips the rose by the thorns to cut
    undeath from the prose by a bleeding lip
    run get to the pearls via seeding spit

    give hope to the kind that had no control
    eye scope of the blind of the world patrol
    live roped to the binds that contain your soul
    tied open to the minds that maintain it all

    lies trip you back to reality
    something you never leave if you believe in totality
    just another slice on the sleeve of morality
    mentality'l grieve, skeeve the price of mortality

    vitality: do or die
    wanted to buy another piece of the pie
    puzzle in peace as I reach for the sky
    never release dreams to fly

    I coexist in a vacuum, won't resist if it has room
    they won't ask you to persist in a pasthume: that is past doom or subsist on a cashew

    but the cashflow (it come so slow), that is rarer then diamonds at the bottom of a sea floor
    or atleast as hard to see; last era of woe spoke to no MC

    god is your family
    not just your fantasy
    fairytale calamity
    very well a vanity

    bred from the ovary
    fed from the mammary
    lead through the galaxy
    infinite to you and me

    champion of day
    hold on to your name
    feels too late to say
    never grieve your ways

    pale light from the moon as we move to dusk
    red knife at the end of a world in rust
    stay bright; cosmic comedy a groove to bust
    insight on a pedagogy made to busk

    conceive every parable that custom reap
    believe every syllable that we still keep
    relieved by the patterns that you put to sleep
    this dream we remember by the ones we meet

    I made the rolls and a major lost too
    never ever been down and out; though I'd probably tear this soul without you
    I doubt you, drownin it out like sad song, fear this whole attitude
    aptitude, happen to hinge, I cringe, fragile bridge between seen and obscene
    lives spent wonderin

    If thunderin mountaintops can stop the drops throw rocks at hops
    and sock the knocks that cop the spots
    we can strive to do more than survive, cause to be alive in this time is a premise to surmise

    and it's no surprise that a promise in some eyes is a lie; it does not take death to die
    the last remnant of fire or worldly desire, to snuff the ire or raise the pyre

    but one cannot testify, that love does not intensify
    that blood is hot if you arrive, that flood will let the new arise

    failure to communicate is what defines this mental state
    an apathetic hectic slate: exasperated human race


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