HipHop Lyrics:
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i'm fascinated with facts, in fact
i own a sundry of knowledge to lay my feet on (these feet).
this universe is my university.
i read people by actions and mannerisms, speak in body language, thinking in tongues.
spitting game at sitting ducks,
sifting dry humor through stained glass and aquaducts. oddly enough,
i'm building monoliths in each millisecond, lingering on concepts,
fingering the translucent fabric of what i've become.
and how i strum the strings they dangle from.
creating webs in this lucid tantrum, tangent, symbolizing this foolproof play
i've staged since the invention of the information age.
a modern man built of mics, modems, and motherboards.
down by lore, allowing kids like me a reason to press record.
maintaining a pressing issue, although everything i have always known has been depressing.
since my thoughts are limited by language,
and our speech has been limited by our sight,
and since all i know is sound and see is color,
all i understand is compared to everywhere i've fed off.
plan to be a sawed off in the rifle closet
i learn in against flickering images of artificial light, casting shadows
unto the imprints of all i touch leaving imprints upon the populous.
chorus:
i've got further to learn than i've got to say, further more,
i'm never taking a step for granted, never the less;
i'm at odds with the fact i'm just one character in a stage, oddly enough,
designed to make it to the next page.
all these scarlet letters on prying eyes sting better in dim times.
hummed sounds of crumbled paper find a nice comfortable warmth among
closed lids, surrounded by the reasons to tear, to flames, to burn
so that i may inhale the knowledge of those who slaved late nights
by fading lights and burnt wicks.
lives transcribed to parchment now computer screens,
i'm a widowmaker of insolence, wisdom, and machine.
metal tongue is my extension cord.
i'm the silhouettte of a silicon valley cobra snake reaching for words to taste.
translate tangents, walking the outer limits of language.
un-average, against the grain, so everything i know has been slanted.
we sometimes speak not knowing what shall be exposed.
i've learned not to gauge intelligence by pieces of paper,
chunks of change, or the age of foes.
well low and behold, my heart isn't in the right place.
i wear it on my sleeve so i can press it to my white face.
in this dry i heave every emotion contained in the pandora's box entitled "sole."
i extend my arm as an offering to read my palm.
shake my hand, this helping hand, this unseen hand.
thumbing through the margins, and bindings,
and fabrics of the pumpkin head's now glowing, and caving in.
i am the light, the image that draws your stare.
i am the dark, the absolute matter of air,
i am positive flame engulfing literature.
i am sure, i am raising my arms
and lowering my guard, my brow, my 21 decades of experience and evolution (it don't stop).
constantly increasing these soliloques muted, ease dropping on the professor.
learning from the professor, becoming the professor,
this magnetic learned aggressor,
this basic model learned imposter is becoming the professor,
becoming and learning.
chorus
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