I've been reflecting upon my memories
Pondering all that which I have found distinctly bothersome
It feels as though each time I write my mind does search the centuries
So I will deliver what I have discovered in the paunch of heathendom
Don't talk about any drinking or writing of poems
Unless for the latter you're one that is known for your thinking
Then I will consider to host you at home
I don't drink for the sake of celebration
Or for the finding of courage
Or for the purpose of numbing dеjection
And that's a rejection еncouraged
For better or worse I drink for the reason of testing liver
Not searching for what any feeble liquid delivers
Competitive spirits are really dangerous with substances
But I won't live my life a string of unexciting instances
As long as I know what true substance is
I'll raise my lips to fizz
I don't need your augurs
Reaper tells me what my future is
Chasing, what I am chasing
Don't need a relationship
Skip the lust and distraction
Focusing all of my mortal attraction
Purely on craft and its colorful facets
Manifold aspects
Challenging whole
Governments in a way better than Dole
Feeling the beat and the rhythm of soul
Pushing myself to be another great
Knowing tellurian never will sate
Drinking from chalice and eating from bowl
Waiting to gormandize incoming plate
Darkened garden
Where creativity roams
Angels and demons
Outside their mythic tombs
I cry by my bloody bedside
Knowing what my Moira brings
I know where the gods of yore lie
And that which drowned in Time's streams
Alpha
Of the pack and you can guarantee it
Ali Baba
But I don't find my treasure in thieves' pit
Doing this since '99
Some think I have come before
'Cause my discourse and my rhymes
Make it seem I've lived in yore
Reincarnated from a fountain pen
Which is why I'm so used to being an instrument of greatness
I just let my soul dig into ether and glean my ken
Before I decide to reveal the extent of its vastness
I am not concerned with your moralistic improvement
I am only interested in my forward movement
If you think I'm gonna die
Then lay me in my tub to rest
I don't want to hear a sigh
The next morning when you confess
That I was really messed up
Or have to clean my throw-up
Well guess what
I rose from that holy faucet like bishop
I don't find my glee in a bottle
It's just a fact of life that I can only go full throttle
And no I don't see any mistakes
Or any regrets
So call off your bets
You may be upset
But I'm eschewing monetary and emotional debt
Rap too odd or party too hard
Energy you can expect from a bard
Darkened garden
Where creativity roams
Angels and demons
Outside their mythic tombs
I cry by my bloody bedside
Knowing what my Moira brings
I know where the gods of yore lie
And that which drowned in Time's streams
I was trained to write my woes upon a piece of paper
Using isolation as my ammunition like a sniper
And I'd slither through abyss
And save my lips for succubus
What are you willing to concede
If objective is to succeed
Keeping my momentum
You're a mass with no velocity
At least be honest with your animosity
Malignity is how many folks seem to find felicity
And that's including dash of aforementioned stark mendacity
I could sell you king's new clothes with my hot flows
I could sell you lava even after the mount blows
When I put the pen to paper I'm expecting masterpieces
Making runes so sweet that you could even call them Reese's Pieces
Pondering all that which I have found distinctly bothersome
It feels as though each time I write my mind does search the centuries
So I will deliver what I have discovered in the paunch of heathendom
Don't talk about any drinking or writing of poems
Unless for the latter you're one that is known for your thinking
Then I will consider to host you at home
I don't drink for the sake of celebration
Or for the finding of courage
Or for the purpose of numbing dеjection
And that's a rejection еncouraged
For better or worse I drink for the reason of testing liver
Not searching for what any feeble liquid delivers
Competitive spirits are really dangerous with substances
But I won't live my life a string of unexciting instances
As long as I know what true substance is
I'll raise my lips to fizz
I don't need your augurs
Reaper tells me what my future is
Chasing, what I am chasing
Don't need a relationship
Skip the lust and distraction
Focusing all of my mortal attraction
Purely on craft and its colorful facets
Manifold aspects
Challenging whole
Governments in a way better than Dole
Feeling the beat and the rhythm of soul
Pushing myself to be another great
Knowing tellurian never will sate
Drinking from chalice and eating from bowl
Waiting to gormandize incoming plate
Darkened garden
Where creativity roams
Angels and demons
Outside their mythic tombs
I cry by my bloody bedside
Knowing what my Moira brings
I know where the gods of yore lie
And that which drowned in Time's streams
Alpha
Of the pack and you can guarantee it
Ali Baba
But I don't find my treasure in thieves' pit
Doing this since '99
Some think I have come before
'Cause my discourse and my rhymes
Make it seem I've lived in yore
Reincarnated from a fountain pen
Which is why I'm so used to being an instrument of greatness
I just let my soul dig into ether and glean my ken
Before I decide to reveal the extent of its vastness
I am not concerned with your moralistic improvement
I am only interested in my forward movement
If you think I'm gonna die
Then lay me in my tub to rest
I don't want to hear a sigh
The next morning when you confess
That I was really messed up
Or have to clean my throw-up
Well guess what
I rose from that holy faucet like bishop
I don't find my glee in a bottle
It's just a fact of life that I can only go full throttle
And no I don't see any mistakes
Or any regrets
So call off your bets
You may be upset
But I'm eschewing monetary and emotional debt
Rap too odd or party too hard
Energy you can expect from a bard
Darkened garden
Where creativity roams
Angels and demons
Outside their mythic tombs
I cry by my bloody bedside
Knowing what my Moira brings
I know where the gods of yore lie
And that which drowned in Time's streams
I was trained to write my woes upon a piece of paper
Using isolation as my ammunition like a sniper
And I'd slither through abyss
And save my lips for succubus
What are you willing to concede
If objective is to succeed
Keeping my momentum
You're a mass with no velocity
At least be honest with your animosity
Malignity is how many folks seem to find felicity
And that's including dash of aforementioned stark mendacity
I could sell you king's new clothes with my hot flows
I could sell you lava even after the mount blows
When I put the pen to paper I'm expecting masterpieces
Making runes so sweet that you could even call them Reese's Pieces
( 137 (US) )
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