[Verse 1]

Talk about the beginning

And the end of your vows

Constellations tell you facts fucker

Truth furrows your brow

Talk about leaving silhouettes lying down in your wake

Prepare for an all night party and keep everything you take

Join the club, I'm the leader, take a seat, I'm your reader

Lost your way, I'm your seeker, ride the newly sun, I'm your empathetic

Speaker, out my headphones hear your voice but you ain't round

Out of body ever present leaving all the players for your incandescence

A wholly automatic automated celebrated

Totalitated connected and hydrated

Fountain of everything, drink from the waters and receive nothing

Tell me there's ideas there, I need the mind of opening

My faded logic erases the temple of sanctum in the wheat field

My bleeding heart builds the wright construction of the unsealed

[Verse 2]

Big bang for the finisher, bad words for the dishes

Only take a minute for the shit to hammer home in a world where our blood's counted in kilo bytes and ohms

Tell the man you're ready, tell the doctor you're steady

They don't know that they're plotting an attack on the people that arrange narratives with thumbtacks

I got the plague, do you want some? You loathe it but in the end you'll succumb

The futures past the last corner are you ready for the battalion of progress retentive coroners?

I don't understand it, we tried our best

But to some consistency in ideas is what's worth a test

Gratis events when the creator feels generous, and still gets fucked by the ones that who exude malevolence

The death of the author, the deaths of the artists

Everybody's dying but the cash is rolling in to stop the writer from crying

[Verse 3]

Blue and red, calling out the songs of the pure breds

187 and a 11-44 at the place of residency of some guy in his 20s

He was shot in the back sitting at his desk, with the chair on the ground and the fibers a speck

Cops got there there too late, he didn't leave a trace, the suspect got nowhere and the man without a face

Scattered around the room were his paintings and records the only thing that got untouched was his safe full of more hoards of money, diamonds, checks for the bank

A rolex watch, and the only thing stolen was the keys to his think tank

On his desk was a computer filled with social media accounts each one of them relating to a steady follower count

He made music, released it to the public, they listened once and then proceeded to tell him to shove it

You had your chance, now get the fuck into your lane

Stop fuckin' around or we'll be forced to bring the pain

He said okay, and did it again

Next thing you know he's dead in the end

Police left the place, and gave up the chase

Left the body there to rot away and stink up the place

A year later the custodian opens his door

And finds a small compact disc where his body was before