[Hook] Butterfly in the sky, I can fly twice as high
[Verse 1: Sadistik] He said, "Fuck sobriety, death to the worker bees" Thirteen circles I've stepped for eternity Burning purple, stressed on a murder spree It's self-inflicted, don't get it twisted These knives in my back now, Elliott Smith(yeah) Rides in the background, melodies fit (yeah) Mixed with the misfits, fix is the hurt When the lips that I kiss with press to the dirt French-kiss vixens, distant and cursed Burned bridges occurred from scriptin' my words Word, so I'll chisel a verse On these lie-filled halls that I've lived in and searched I'm still lost in a head of catacombs Cause I build walls like I'm Edgar Allan Poe I've killed off every damsel that I know For castles that I keep, castles that I know
[Hook]
[Verse 2: Deacon the Villain] I'm having spirits in the dark, laying under moonlight Laughing with a stranger, like I saved her from her doomed life Pop a couple Percs, a perk of anonymity Trapped within a curse that I created with my energy A path that I rehearse, a cycle on repeat Life is like a lion and I'm dying at its feet I roll another sweet, check my muted Treo I've seen them as the plot, too busy caught up in the B-roll My eye up to the keyhole, scared to turn the knob And go out on my own, instead I blend in with the mob My memory bank's the only thing I tend to rob And every time I phone the lob, I'm out of dodge It's hard, on the boulevard, and other clichés The type of bullshit that I'm feeding self these days Corrosion on my relays, one thing my mirrors chose An imp in new clothes, exposed
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Aesop Rock] I mow a dead lawn, aim for the alpha Ten claws deck the halls of Valhalla Not a man, a receptacle for crest-fallen matter Never tempered or pressed into patterns But just won't die, instead a palpitation from the plasma Pumping disenchanting anecdotes and antiquated data at 'em I get these headaches that climb down into my stomach Then off into my extremities and out into the public In a flood of shadow puppetry, something in the air Got a tiny pool of energy becoming self-aware It's recognizing family and alphanumeric characters Scenery and deities with unassuming avatars Close encounters exacerbate his condition From classy to a bastion of classic misdirection Tune into the Casio adventures When the rest of me can barely form a god-damn sentence
[Hook]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
