[Verse 1: Themba Ntaka]
Meters land on the page like the strands of a chromatic melange
Hunting stool pigeons from my lawn
Encompassed by lethargy
On cable lines they lounge;
Any afternoon they'll still be cloaked in sleeping gowns
While letting inversions occur
I drop trite remarks on mental sidewalks like feces
This winged playwright takes flight to low-hanging branches
Intrinsic daft stances seen by the emcee in parallax
As I let your mind race and body relax
Thinking I could kill two birds with one metal bully
Fully adapted to the hurling of the microphone by its cord like a game of rap helicopter
Dinner date for two serving sides of prevalence but chose to ride out on a rough estimate
Which reminds me of the absurd tug-of-war dancing floor with my next lucky love bird
Meters land on the page like the strands of a chromatic melange
Hunting stool pigeons from my lawn
Encompassed by lethargy
On cable lines they lounge;
Any afternoon they'll still be cloaked in sleeping gowns
While letting inversions occur
I drop trite remarks on mental sidewalks like feces
This winged playwright takes flight to low-hanging branches
Intrinsic daft stances seen by the emcee in parallax
As I let your mind race and body relax
Thinking I could kill two birds with one metal bully
Fully adapted to the hurling of the microphone by its cord like a game of rap helicopter
Dinner date for two serving sides of prevalence but chose to ride out on a rough estimate
Which reminds me of the absurd tug-of-war dancing floor with my next lucky love bird
( Themba Ntaka )
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