Started pristine, since tattered
None of this really matters
Plastered on pedestals high
Comes crashing down from the sky
Decayed before it’s born
Penitent’s patience breeds scorn
But she found another way
There’s really no following me to the grave
Bloodied and battered
Breastbone shattered
Goodness gave way to my grief
And all of my wants became needs
And as she took aim for the cutting
Well I was reduced down to nothing
I should have begged for my mercy
I should have cried for restraint
But she found another way
There’s really no following me to the grave
Cut from cadavers
Heads on platters
And my head
Suddenly floating and free
And my neck
Suddenly open to breathe
And my eyes
Clouded by nothin' to see
And my body
Falls to the floor in a heap
Bound by my winters and dead to my rights
Fueled by the embers of these endless nights
Levitate limbless, cerebral, serene
I had to taste it to know what it means
supported by 46 fans who also own “John the Baptist”
they picked the cotton that saved the world. that picked cotton propelled u.s. economy; a unique capitalist setup. (though anglo saxon colonizers are not unique.) so many pop stars and hip hop billboard mainstays trumpet u.s. capitalism ad nauseam; or escapism & distraction.
"Don't Die," also powerful.
"i don't believe they lies. don't believe their truth, need they heads for proof" -- that's direct and powerful.
the violinist Saydah Ruz stands out here, i think. Jeremy Leaming
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