We Don’t Really Need Altars

By Small Bills

On Don’t Play It Straight

Released on October 30, 2020

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[Intro]

Mmm, since before my first birth

Since before my first birth

Earth's been in crisis

Since before my first birth


[Verse 1]

What's to be, what's to come

Treetop touch, pine prick thumb

Wind of breeze, lung liquor, sun's bitter

Where I wanna be, green whisper

South of the blister

Thistle and beeswax, breath

No additional feedback

Free snack from the soil

Got a sack full from the back of the backwoods, baskin'

Blade through flesh, juice run down my face and neck

Facing west, made a mess

Last night's sex on my top lip

Cosmic slop, hot spit, third rock—pop shit now!

Hair braid maps, patterns, swamps and pastures

Patient step, notes on trap, cutlass the captors

Moon blood ran red forwards and backwards

Circling to the center of a boiling core, iron and ore

Plates shift, thoughts and form were forged

We heard about Haiti

Came a mighty long way

How to raise a free black baby

[Chorus: E L U C I D + KAYANA + E L U C I D & KAYANA]

To be the norm, not to be normalized

To be the norm, not to be normalized—a'ight

Run like wind, rough side of the mountain

Eyes blindfold, took my time here, felt it

All around, lightyears it seems

(All around) (It seems) (All around)

Rough side of the mountain

Eyes blindfold, took my time here, felt it

All around (All around)


[Verse 2: E L U C I D]

What's to be, what's to come

Rhythm dreams, spirit drums

Speak it whole, make it plain

Beyond the wall, scale it in my head, I fled

Crouching beneath pussy willows in the gulf of dread

I read the bones, packed my bags, geo-tracked drones

Facial recognition mask jammed

Glass hand pried, Babylon clan, vagabond

When lion lies with lamb, I'm alive

A fire rise for the tide to smolder on top the sand

Hidden hand

Guilty feet got no rhythm, that's my jam

Do your dance, motherfucker, do your dance

I see you out here, boom, boom, tickin'


[Bridge: KAYANA]

(All around, all around, all around)


[Outro: E L U C I D]

Earth tiller, pure root, no filler

Blue indigo, hang block, brother of the yam

We only wrap the raindrops in this body, holding on

But most of all—but most of all, in this body, let it go