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about

This conceptual piece traces the evolution of a thought from it's inception to implementation to fanaticism; inspired by characters in history

lyrics

(chorus 2x)

When the Black Figure laughs, it curdles my veins,
serpentine flames surround me in a circular way.
Avert from it's gaze and with my nerves in a craze,
I know of no calm or peace in this purposeless maze.


Thought forming physical, feel the nodes.
I know these words soon echo through fields and grooves;
and I crawl to the next tier, evolve, impressed peers.
Now whose to say that my coup will fall on deaf ears?
Breath veers caught in cyclonic inhalation;
in phonic fits of making the prophet scripts to statements;
of well woven intricate stanzas, excises your tongue:
the maliciousness cancer
its profitable to see that every syllable I breath
is more and more making you pitiful and weak
Obsessed with the message;
So much so I’m leaping into either a rough death or heaven.
Ingested caps of mescaline, strapped with c4.
Spiraling downward to crash from free fall
on cats that seem torn, I bask in these songs.
Rap just needs more acts of éclat.

(chorus 2x)

Refuse to recluse, doubt, or sprout tears;
So let me make this from my mouth to God’s ears.
Spit to calm cats, kids who palm flasks;
deep as the abyss and kick songs beyond that.
Call me Oppenheimer; cause I was born for this project;
equated Aristotle to informal logic.
Rest assured that your pretenses are safe.
The only sense I can make of this venture at stake
is that you think the lights out but I'm the flickering flame;
and I never bow my head in contrition or shame
Optimist, cause I'm a prophet that’s unstoppable.
Perceive in 360, ocular’s phenomenal.
Indomitable, your just not as astrological;
as this task at hand is a blast from my abdominal
Trapping the possible in casks of amontillado;
in dealing with the game I smash half a bottle

(chorus 2x)

I know we've blown the traditions;
but you can't see it now, cause I've sewn intuition.
Fade away to Greece or Rome as mythus.
You lack skill due your own inhibition
As we proceed, remaining aloof;
I need one more life to prove what I’m saying is true.
And how did I get here to ominous wrong hell?
I hear the streets my name synonymous to Cromwell.
A rapping villain who hold the scaffold dear
like Maximilian Robespierre known for fear.
Pacing in my palace, thoughts fucking insane—
—trace it back to the roots this wasn’t the aim
at the edge, I wish for Peace with the father
the shadows creep as I squeeze the revolver

And now I can't sleep at night, I'm rustling
with the ghost of slaughtered to keep me company.
Every night, I can't sleep, I'm rustling
with the ghosts of the slaughtered to keep me company.

credits

from The Dioscuri, released January 3, 2011

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all rights reserved

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about

Louis Mackey Boston, Massachusetts

Born in the mid-80s in Akron, Ohio. Been and lived many places, brain has changed many times. In debt to the blues and to all music that came before upon whose bones we build. On a mission to make sincere, true, creative and sometimes funny psychedlic hop hop. ... more

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