rise up. shine sun, high mind mic clutch, but i died on strike one when i tried to sky touch. bust a movement to a groove that is computed, to sit in a cubicle barely lucid and we do it for the check, and spend it on release. but by the end of the week, we do it to keep our sanity. on repeat, and it's true that bishop don lenses the vision wrong, account number not worth the card that it's printed on, sing a sinner's song til the dinner gong. will i gross enough so someone notices when i'm gone. yes, i've been a pawn for the kingship, but every night i rise defiant if they try to clip the wingtips.
flow morpheus slow, dreaming of the life so we forget the life we know. light up, fill a cup, so the head won't erupt, get a buzz, but it's just not enough. flow morpheus slow.
dream a little dream until i'm back at it. awakened only to sit in traffic, toys in the attic, modern man is automatic. the gattaca tragedy in 3D, life as a self-replicator can make a human uneasy. the fiends think of thieving to the top but scheming on the c.r.e.a.m. made them the demons of the crop. but me, i'm steady dreaming of reaping what i cannot. deep within shit creek, the boat leaking, now watch me sinking like a rock. but today i'm feeling free of my prison, breathe in emissions, kissing bleezes, my relief is ignition. listening with intent to derivative nonsense and pretending like i'll ever see something beyond this. i guess it's either dream or be paralyzed, so let us fantasize like this is paradise.
red pill pop, disconnect the neck as i punch clock. the bud will be in my lungs and the sub, it will knock.. something to stop how my head's spinning, mess within, debt-ridden, used and abused and then left for the dead risen. death wishing until i hit this love that i'm rolling, thinking "will the circle of suffering be unbroken?" catching a fire in this cold world, odd as it might seem. soon as you get the light green, climb inside of my pipe dream.
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