after Takyon by Deathgrips
I do not let it go. Ingrained in pain I keep my sane by
taking a little stroll. I take a walk and count to ten
'cause every hen can't be slaughtered before it lays
an egg is where to start to part over things real small
and sway. How the wind will take the egg on over
is a matter of chance and pain. The words we weigh
go over, side and side, like what kind of cars go through
the toll. Watching the quarter find a slide on its
slow spiral to the hole. We watch it spin on edge and
it's in and everybody else pumps fists because it's a win
Meanwhile I'm still on the edge of the bill
waiting for the game to be called.
Brain up to the wall and still feeling small
for the things I did not know
of phsyics all it is is gravity kicks in the back part of a skull
cryonic paste and toxic waste, it's the ditch digger
all over again. Stethoscopes and ways to cope
and ways to open hand palm milk hold.
I had a thought, bought out with a comment from a friend,
I had a thought, playing my peace
and I didn't know it was the end.
Get dirty fresh and sonic like an enter key was your life
and I'll rouse up posse, horsemen, swordsmen
rooks, and kings, like you were playing for more than
tripe. I had this vision of an incision that was
taking out your tongue,
going back to the years when blacks were,
looking at white cunts, and for that hung,
it's all reversed and I look forward to
the day when the white in your eyes pops out
more dead and tender done.
