[Killah Priest]

The blind folded sculpture, Quiet bomb bursts

A rebel fall, Turn the ground black with sulfur

Full Metal Jacket tactics, Galactica flyin over

The silent screams of a die'n soldier

He looks around to find his arm, His mind is gone

The final closure of this soldier, But it's not over

He sees a stream of fire, Breaks his flesh

A swimming skeleton, He takes his breath

The river takes him, His bones break some

Upon the flame'n corals, Where crabs and sea shells boils

Upon the rigid stone serpent's coil

He tries to stare through his holes in his skull

A dirty sea gull picks a dead fish from out his nose bone

(Help me, Help me)

While in the other place, Deep in white space

The tables with nice plates, Wine and a vase

It's golden, They say they grace the chosen

A peaceful face, The olive grass, Give em a bath

The sun washes his face, The prophet laughs washing the grapes

A soft light of Him enters in, We all bright

We drift through the wind, Of no confusion

It's done, Which side you chose'n

[Kevlaar 7]

Dug a grave in his brain, blood stained his memory

He laid lonely, his only soul forgiven

Prison his dwelling until the shells started swelling

Heat concluded once abused his windless lungs

Confusing his journey between dirt and the sun

Nameless men cleanse his hand of his gun

A cage of unseen birds, left free in the dust

Live boots run by, a vultures calling his bluff

Waiting for the moments since his life's frozen

Atonement, face stoned in the scavenger's wind

The final breath, until embalming begins

Calling the shadows his home when the daylight ends

[Bronze Nazareth]

Deepened skin, burgundy laced within

Puzzled lights dim, hemorrhaged tissue underneath the brim

And skull cap hiding, deteriorate faded hair patch

Cold abscess, eye lashes flared like boat crashes

Skin resemble cells of broken glasses

He's frozen as time in, diamond Rolex

Those who watch his soul divided from this physical essence

Realize without both eyes the crows came for collection

Staring at the stairs of heaven, the brain's dead end

Weak veins turn to ash, syringes hit the capillaries

Dosage varies for this airborne float like Ferris

His raw elbow; lay in the basins of oppression

Zombie like organisms whose symptom's exposed

Now receiving bites from mites who bend and burrow

Knuckles ripe, tissues stiffen by the time we see light

This throws us, but notice how we walk, real pain

Electrical message to the brain predict he'll meet Cobain

Dormant until unknown lights told him the way home

His sixth sense; sees his father write ghostly poems

As he floats toward the underground

They plot his gravesite

The theater made of clouds, no chance for stage fright!