[Spoken Word]

Straight out the fucking dungeons of rap

Where the select few make it back

I don't know how to start this one

[Verse 1]

Your premonition that something shoddys about to start

Is just about as set as the sun setting to start the dark

I disembark the boat I built that sailed across open sea

To cope with what's inside then grab a mic and spit it openly

Opponents show their openings as mine are non existent

Amateurs. I hammered the final nail in the coffin

Till I punched the fucking lid off like the bride to show I'm off one

I'm The quiet one. Riotous and pious. Lying wide awake in my skull alone status as minus 1

Confined within the climate of rain clouds and disarray

To sit stay in here evokes the folks to want to disengage

Aristocrat. Listen for the images I list through rap

Tip for tap encounters with sure doubters make pistols clap

But I'm the one with missiles who missuses them all

To prevent the setting off give me a round of applause

Distraught with a mix between voracious and vicious

On top of that demeanor I am gracious and malicious

Rhymebooks a grimoire. It's how the dead get lift

My friends and I burn something down and dance around it till it's zilch

The fuck is up with sadness as the only force that drives me?

If it wasn't for the high beams I'd be driving daily blindly

Yo to it break down. the high beams are the dreams that I chase

And if I didn't have a goal to make I'm wasting a stay

So control yourself. Barrel rolling out the way of more distress

Complexes me change but every change is slow as tortoise steps

I can't afford the chains I bare. They ware my wrists and core to less

Then what they ordinarily carry on through diurnal reps

Talk is cheap. Flashing back to times where I have lost my sheep

So now when I go walk the streets you bet I do it cautiously

I'm nauseous when a faucet leaks. The thought of drops that fall on me

Deplete the sanity that I had once declared as paucity

[Verse 2]

When it appears that people learn this little secret that I have

That I rap. At first I don't think they believe it

But it's cool. I know it doesn't seem it on the surface

They perceive me with 3 heads. So fuck it, I am Cerberus

The poet who's presenting hides his horns under his hat

Cannot identify the source from which they spring out of his scalp

And he went to several specialists to have them taken out

But when they try it goes awry so there they'll stay until he's down for the count

I'm spearheading the Romanticism rebirth

Society is idle and could use a little reverb

They see me tend my sheep herds to supply them for their sleep

Sweep across the field they built inside their heads into their dreams

My attention span equates below the sum of an iota

Saunter home then catch my solace found in fire pit aromas

Old as time is how I feel when I reveal any preference

What I'm destined to becomes' enough make your fucking head spin

Growling loud now to show the planet off my prowess

I was up late in my tower counting down the days I've outlasted

Everyone and everything thats been besieged

By the all encompassing wrath of that which I don't speak

See I hold onto my grudges cos it guides me in avoidance

Of the people who deploy a rage in me also annoyance

I enjoy when I'm alone cos that is where I gain some growth

But I also want connection but I've learned I can't have both

I came close once but lost it, so I've taken an oath

To not commit to anything till I can stand on my own

At the end of the day, I must accept what I am

A three headed guard dog who spills his guts with a pen