Alien

exist in a state of consistant transition

plans shifting, with insuffitient ambition

man listen, this is my advice

die or fight, get caged in or take flight

on the page inside the margin i make light

appear in the form of the words i write

its all solar, from the lows to highs

but your blinded by the wool pulled over ya eyes

by over-sized flies, that feed off waste

take the icing on the cake, and leave without trace

the man without a face i stay anonymous

the way we livin day to day stays monotonous

like ya bland sound

but with the weight of the world on top of us we still stand ground

and brake down, your fasination with the fabrication of the truth

make use of your imagination

in the pursuit of expression

not as a disguise to, hide behind when undressing

ya bredrin, i reckon, the question is this

to be or not to be - a simple lesson in risk

imparting this text, is my only life after death

im left gasping for breath

asking for less tention and stress, about to suffocate

it feels like i need devine intovention to resusitate me lately

its like frustration has taken its hold

restraining me from breaking the mold

or making the most of my creative control

times taking its toll, im elevating my soul by

taking the old to the new like nice and smooth

my voice high likes to groove

the break sets the move, i express my attitude

towards my foes and those who show no gratitude

you cant calulate my longitude or latitude,

navigate my catacombe, or reach my altitude

im too high, far too fly to stay stationary

basically i keep it constructive, like masonary

blantenly disruptive, and its disgracefully corruptive

system plagued with injustice

but this is purity, you cant touch this

its much more to me, than just fuck-ish

but i cant let that discourage,

i salvage anything of value from the rubbish and repair

i wont be driven into submission or dispair

i prepare for war i heard the rhythem of the snare (right there)