Conspiracy of Myth

A conspiracy, a myth, a false line of approach

Advance or we diss you, dense roaches scatter from light

And the Panthers run round like a record

Intercepted from dim tunnels into some spectrums

No prospects, as sure as death and taxes

Fertile on charred surfaces burst

Megahertz, what knocks worse

Me on the sidelines or you up first?

Nothing if not insipid rips of rigid regular

Vernacular spectacular on acid

Sound in suspended color

But other than smoldering matrix

Link control panel to channel the frustrated

We revel in the decapitated captive

With vague words since the year '95

When MC became a dirty word, chivalry

The coat on the pond walks all over your purpose

Would we sell out if mass abundance

Came out their pockets

Lined up the corner to purchase

Perhaps if only for the 5 cent price

And their lack of vindication

Many play messenger so use discretion

Relapse is winning just to look who's running

In a race standing still

These words are all I have to offer

The author lost in his thoughts

A walking New-Yorker

Covered in ash behind the crash

With a open gash I staggered

Behind every eyelid there's a dagger

The antagonist never agonizes

Compulsive, this hit him with the voltage

It was repulsive, the vultures

Fighting impulses and missing posters

Are you sure what you're fighting for?

War with a cinematic score

The cries were a painful repercussion

Blows crushing, dust and debris

Us and the we, plus it doesn't matter

'Cause the symptoms show much later

In the greater scheme of things

The things that seemed most important aren't

But they warranted tormented screams

Make the extremes seem unreal

I'm walking through a open mausoleum

And seeing the frames peeled

I arise out the disguise of a Kabuki dancer

Flying from the ceiling to the stage

In front of your eyes

Calm with a prize

Breathing, conceiving reason from seasons

Dazin' equations I made in the maze

I laid to a page that turns into sage

Guides my ways out a cave that meets with the sun

I slide on my shades, beats pop like grenades

And since priests mention the tragic day

I say they pop like AK's overseas

In the desert breeze, hiding in trees

Tryna find keys for the he's and the hubus

While me and my crews burn a bit

Gettin' back to life making shit sick

Alfred Hitchcock back with the twist then pitch

Wobble wobble strike, throw up your mitts

Everybody give it up with a pump of the fist

When we dump out the gift

Dump, swish, game lock

Your clique, tsk-tsk, sunk ship