[Verse 1: Doseone]
Shattered where it matters
Past too broken to say it
Blasted Glass passion mixed apology mosaic
But basic, no inspiration or masons called in to carefully curate it
No perfect papal Portraiture... Just ordinary torture turned
To brutish yet therapeutic partial cure
All duties never concluded for the walking wounded
Doom lit truth enthusiast
Trying to prove they're not useless through music
Unwell reputed
Took worn world's toll on the thin linen of old soul
Thirst for water and blood, both met at the only watering hole
Whеn nature calls and goes straight to voice mail
All your ancеstors dissolved in lifelong rapids of alcohol
Swallowed whole and improperly
By a flourishing hollow dream economy
Exhausted hostages in a god's dead, apple-mouthed hog's head
Of sprawled American motherlandless white bread
Their cultural emptiness expressed best over a balanced breakfast
Eggs cooked with small bits of weapon
Spilled milk drenching, just enough rope to encircle your neck in
An endless tale of unbridled, over-wedded, mid-western repression
Living the brand, scared inner old man
Holding a bald eagle's cold hand in artificial day land
Where jugular vein and gutter drain tangle
In a star-spangled, fist-sized cyst of impossible angle
Amidst a rightly, ugly, nightly waltz with all happiness unlikely
Let it be known...
An archetype dies alone, surrounded by clones
Beside its assigned grinding stone
Slowly blooming its bones
[Verse 2: billy woods]
Now it's no illusions
Drenched in gasoline hoping to spark a movement
But the zippo out of fluid
Blinking at the sun, soaking wet at the foot of the edifice
Bureaucrats run up and down limestone steps
Voice to text into the void
Sitting bereft, one might toss you a coin
Thinking you dispossessed
Thinking that puddle is piss
What they think is anybody's guess
What he wouldn't give to poke around in they heads
Hoping to burn a cig but nobody smokes cigarettes, they vaping
Hot stepping up the Ave in all his drip, smelling like a gas station
Search for fire like cavemen
The last straw was a child with its head caved in
When it's your child, what will you say then?
Pushed through the throngs on the pavement
Walked in the deli, sneakers squelching
Turkey cheese on a roll, hold the Hellmans
Hey yo oc, lemme get a Bic