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This is to the (uh-uh) intertwined souls
the hands I've been trying to hold
This is to the (uh-uh) love that I lost
and all the troubling thoughts of how I got double-crossed
and this is to the (uh-uh) divorce I was forced to settle with
and the remorse I fought off with metal fists
and this is to the (uh-uh) wet, watery kiss I left you with
on your porch as I watched your trembling lips

This is to the... memory of our early years
the first girl I shared feelings with
and it's the realest thing I'd experienced in my short existence
and I ain't afraid to admit
cause love is one of the things that doesnt come with an age limit
now does it? In fact I'ma have to say I'm more keen to feel such things
hopeless things I'd lost in a smokescreen of meaningless fucking
Touching without touching, candles in the dark
casting shadows on our parents battles, this is for the romantics at heart
It wasn't long before I held you more then my pen
when I wasn't writing songs, it was something like
"Forever and always, whenever those songs play..."
I remember empty hallways
or your image that descended from the top floor became an echo
I paid the price for those hard things, and couldn't afford to let go
From a passive debt, I'm past regret
Did you know I dreamt about you before we met?
Remembering our first kiss, and it ain't even happened yet
Recollecting your set, and I wasn't even given the chance to forget
I guess that's the magic of it
Now every rehashed subject's displaying what I wrote
on cafe napkins to the public
to get it over and done with, closure hath cometh
My shoulders are plummeted from holding these buckets
Hold your laughs till I go back to the tunnels of Paris
where I wrote half of these paragraphs... but fuck it

This is to my ten year story, in another decade
you better be better prepared for me
in the first four years, you were all ears
then for the next six, you left me for the next exit
with depth to my message
So that began my affair with the world abroad
Behind the curtain with the other hurtful girls I explored
Until I became the monster, turning to the words that I record
Part of me, if you heard it all before
"I didn't shake you to hurt you"
when you landed on the floor
In a room of naked virtues
I closed my eyes to cancel what I saw
Your hand made the first move to the handle of the drawer
where the frail girl couldn't think to live
"I didn't shake you to hurt you"
I never planned it before
I can't shake off your perfume, can't wash my hands no more
and I'm breaking my curfew, but I can't walk
I'm standing at the door, I hear the wailing of a little kid
...and the failure of innocence
His compromise eyeing the side of the kitchen sink
What'you think, I just let you cut you, cut me-- cut the bullshit
Damn, I love the hugs enough to tolerate
the way we made each other crazy, making it so tough to operate
Productively, my self esteem didn't help when I felt ugly
and I figured that's the reason why you wouldn't trust me
My ego does bleed, I shouldn't have let you test it
and let your arms free to follow up with your domestic slip up
Love is a battlefield so lick your shots quick
while I lick my wounds and then resume as an obvious target
Infatuations with the past protect my Purple Heart with
a faded picture I had in my shirt pocket
I'm going out with a bang..
in a blaze of glory holes, the anti-hero
I don't care how many ways the story's told
Be careful when these doolies play like drums
and be careful what you say, because my uzi weighs a tongue..

This is to the sleepless evenings that I spent next to grave stones
Hoping someone from beyond would grab my arm and take me home
I hadn't accepted I'd have to make it alone
after feeding everything I had into a payphone
and this is to the rain..
I felt like it was made of spit
My parade was an unbreakable chain of Gabe's trumpets
Save the buckets even though they weighed down my walking
You don't know the height of the steak you place your fork in
You look old (that's what you said)
I feel old (that's what I said)
I been through a lot since you been gone, dead, born again
torn to shreads over girls who were porcelain
the cry-baby dolls, when we were allowed to talk again
I stopped accepting break-up calls (that ring true)
I hate the way I fall for everything you do
Our fate is flawed, that's why I make these break-up songs to sing to you
Music is my only psychiatric drug
And you're a pill in human form I'd like to hide under my tongue
Kiss the foot that couldn't fit into the slipper of my mouth
The denizen in your house begging for the benifit of your doubts
When I got kicked out, I played the faithful puppy dog
Loyal to the love alost, sitting at your fucking door in utter disbelief
I sucked all of the skin off of my teeth
you pulled away, you let me choke on your invisible leash
You can find me hiding these screams behind my eyelids
She blinded me (she blinded me) with science..
So my air-mail lips blew her a fairwell kiss
Slinking over the sink, where all the hair gel drips
Stairwells dip deep into her mouth where I found a cycle
and ever since then, I've been on a downward spiral
this round is final, it's time to recover
because it's a porch that some dogs choose to die under
the first song was a breakdown, I apologize in round two
this version of certain, this shit ain't even about you
It's the threewrite..


"Time Of My Life Redux"

"Time Of My Life Redux"

Consider me to be a fly on the wall with a bird's eye view
I stare, as my birthtime drew near
The only earth i knew reared me in a world i grew to fear
I do appear quite nude and warm
I'm like "what's up with the lights and the white uniforms?"
You're damn right you're truly wrong when a hand strikes the newly born.
"i can't fight" i'm cruely scorned.in a man's life, the beauty's gone
I was scared with fright through the storm
I'm prepared to write a mutiny song
"it's a miracle ma!" damn my dick is long
Oh, that's just the umbellical chord
Clip clip, snip snip.and now it's gone along with my foreskin
One of them awful things that they do to theoffspring
The sting is lessened by the drugs they pump into my miniature body
Making us addicts just that quick is their signature hobby
An infamous robbery, and if i'm not careful then my shaft'll break
It's got me coming up with creative ways to masturbate
I wanna be held but my father rebelled and my mother's unconscious
I went from a dark bliss to some boxes
It's obnoxious the way the doctors poke and prod
Seriously i can barely function
This is my first out-of-body experience and alien abduction
I'm barely a munchkin after just minutes of labor
They're putting my tiny footprints on some birth certificate paper
My personal hell of isolation began in an incubator
To think of it later, slice open my wrist and check the microchip data
They didn't capture it on beta film or audio
The year made me a dragon, the month made me a scorpio
The weak, feeble, helpless baby boy cried for nights
But that day was the time of my life
But that day was the time of my life
But that day, but that day was the time of my life
But that day, but that day, but that day, but that day, but
That day was the time of my life


"Tree Of Knowledge"

"Tree Of Knowledge"

I'm a construct of your world, deep-rooted, polluted and tortured
Abused and altered, I just caught you eves dropping
Adam's rising to pluck the fruit from off the branch
reaching out to touch your inner-drives
Cut me open and count the rings inside to see how long I've been alive
Containing forms of records about the types of storms I've weathered
Leave a stump for kids to carve initials as long as I'm remembered
But lessons go forgotten plus you don't believe a thing
Listening to the whispering of my leaves in the wind
When the breezes begin you're just concerned with flying kites
Till I tangle up your child's play and get you climbing heights
Still reluctant to hear me out admiring the sites
You have no idea what it was like being nailed to Christ
You're swinging from the twigs and limbs that used to hang your siblings
Have respect you selfish self-centered sack of man-made buildings
I was the original pinnacle but now I'm nothing to you but kindling
Tickling my inhibitions of naturally attracting children
Who have a funny idea of what forever is
I witnessed the first time lips kissed with stripped innocence
Not too long after that was I supplying shade
For a man caressing silverbacks trying to get laid
Monkeying around and now they're all dying of A. I. D. S
Government guerilla tactics? That's a farce, I bring the plagues
Cancer? That's just icing on the cake, I nurse and feed ya
Cause you drained me of my sap with taps of perverse procedure
I hold your family background right down to the first amoeba
Watched you grow from just crustacean to a land mammal, it hurts to leave ya
But I've had enough, and it'll be very relieving
Just who do you think supplies the air you're breathing?
Humongous oxygen tanks? As if it's all free
Constantly wondering where your dogs are at?
They're barking up the wrong tree
Wanting proof of identification but I existed before fingerprints
Cognitive dissonance... I hear chainsaws in the distance
If a tree falls in the forest and nobody's there to hear it
Does it make a sound? I'll go down quietly but you're feel it
Still these sick like thoughts keep eating away at my inside
Till I'm nothing but hollowed out hide..
The dead tree's still standing, here comes the hunting-ax of lumberjacks
So I attract like lightning when the thunder cracks, I'm under attack
So I may finally... stop... stumble... relax...




[Sage Francis]

i'm having identity crises.
"no we're not." "yes we are."
i'm having identity crises.
"no we're not." "yes we are."

i don't have a feeling that hasn't been felt, feeling on my felt tip,
showing my hand...revealing what i've dealt with.
and how i'm dealing. cut the deck. evenly distribute the pieces
of shit talking during our disputes on weekends.
we can sing along to each other's song, right?
even if the interpretation is wrong, right?
just make sure you don't bring the wrong mike,
'cause i don't care about meeting a boyfriend we can all like (nah!).
this song is called trite, hope ya like it.
could've substituted your name with the title but i decided that i'd keep it private.
violent dream sequences just seem endless.
i can see myself making a heated entrance
to your workplace with a smirk on my face.
and a tongue in my cheek. and a gun in my reach.
sneaking naked photos of myself under the seats of your co-workers,
putting a knife to your throat and screaming out "i won't hurt her!"
they're like, "let her go!"
and i'm like, "let her grow!"
prisoners wouldn't listen to this. their rational side was out on a furlough.
i like turbo-nuclear family affairs.
i want a wife, a house, and two and a half mistresses to call when i'm not there.
then hang up the phone, and have my wife call up the phone company,
and ask the phone company guy "why???"

and he's like, "ma'am...well, maybe you just don't know how to talk."
and she's like, "damn...well...wanna fuck me?"
"yeah of course."

see? case closed. and he knows how to trace calls,
so i can't make cranks saying, "i hate ya'll!"
i throw baseballs at my mirror, break walls a tear a-
nother page out of my diary, throwing it from the eighth floor 'til i hear a
pin drop. unsuspecting pallbearers are in shock.
they know i'm about to kill myself with a sling shot.
they bring rocks for ammunition,
steal my lifetime magazines and then cancel my subscription.
their hands are just itching to scratch my clean records.
my rap sheets are infected, now i can't be president???
i just have to be elected! i ask for just a second chance.
the answer back was "kid, you never did in the first place."

speaking of that, give me my blue ribbons back and anything that is mine.
waiting for a nice guy who can't make it to the finish line.
when i die you won't recognize the picture buried inside the obituary,
but it'll say, "bye, i miss you very much."

i'm always one for last words at departing time,
in a million years is when this dead star will shine.
say my fuckin' name. nope. say my fuckin' name. nope.
you don't...know what to call me so you don't.
you don't you don't call me.
you don't you don't call me.


"Underground For Dummies"

"Underground For Dummies"

And you'll know it was me by the trail of demos
Spare me the details, e-mails, memos
Dookie-gold chain letter to whom it may concern
Put this around your neck until your hangin’ on my every word

Stalkin', walkin' in my big black boots
I'm the DIY artist with thick grass roots
Had a couple managers as a youth
I was too young to know better but I was like
"What does a manager do?"
Now one of them he saw dollar signs in my skin color
The other, he said to keep it undercover
Post-VIP posse, pre-Internet Nazi era
Powers of suggestion suggested I be what I'm not, and that's not me ever
From Lasienega to Meadowbrook Drive
Never looked surprised
Cut to the chase with metal hooks and knives
Now it's battle time, I stepped in the arena
Thirteen-year-old gladiator freak with a fever for the flavor of a fight on the mic
(Follow the Leader)
Mr. Chuck was the surrogate father
KRS-One, the teacher
There I was, sneakin’ into clubs
Beat an emcee to the punch over instrumentals dubbed
From tape deck to tape deck
Pause tape mix at breakneck speed
The only whitey in sight
That doesn’t make me realer than you, or faker than you
But I'm authentic, forget it
Started breakin’ rules
Ten years later still hadn’t stopped
Won the biggest battle in a Metallica shirt before the album dropped
A week later, smashed the trophy at a show
It was takin’ up the space that I needed to grow

Pop pop goes the weasel (the weasel)
Drop drop goes the easel (the easel)
This is hip-hop for the people
Stop callin’ it Emo (waah)

I know a kid who thinks he's hip-hop ‘cause he buys it
I know a kid who thinks he's hip-hop ‘cause he never buys shit
Underground or mainstream
Some are bound to change teams
Y’all weren't doin’ this dirt
When Jeru (Came Clean)

Before the Freddie Foxxx conflict with DMX
Around the time when Jay-Z and Nas' girl had sex
I used to wake up every morning on a hard wooden floor
Livin’ in Brooklyn with a car I couldn’t afford
And if I wasn't hangin’ out in front of Fat Beats records,
I was in the factory, mailing out my 12-inches
Nowadays, the DJs don't even spin wax
So fuck a promo copy, buddy, you can download the track
Seratooo promo-sexual laptop
A hollow existence in a bottle
Ya sip-sip then swallow
I tripped quick, then followed a path that made sense
Started out with a live band then worked with turn-tablists
Now I strike a match with the back of my front teeth
And light up the stage with just speech

I remember the days Ken and Dave let me crash on their couch
And I saved what I could and put the cash in my mouth
When I played in my hood I had a fraction of outs
‘Til Atmosphere put me on and now I'm packin’ the house
Since the mid-80s this has been a game of cat and mouse
It's funny hearin’ all the shit these rappers brag about
Knowin’ all of them are walkin’ around with massive doubts
Talkin’ bout it's only status and platinum plaques that count

Pop pop goes the weasel (the weasel)
Drop drop goes the easel (the easel)
This is hip-hop for the people (the people)
Stop calling it Emo (wah)

Irony is dead, it's so motherfucking dead, I was there by its deathbed
And the last words that it said (Was what?)
Was "Whiiiiite booyyyy"

I'm (Still Sick) with an independent record label
I built quick just when I got (Sick of Waiting Tables)
Then in the blink of an eye I (Waged War)
(As a Known Unsoldier) with a soul you can't pay for
I ran a business on my own two legs
Known to beg if I needed to with Home Grown bootlegs.
Cut and paste images of my face and then sloppily placed 'em in a case.
Strange Famous! I stayed (True when School was in Session.)
Went to college to buy time—that shit was expensive.
So I shamelessly self-promoted
The radio station would open doors and opportunities
Eventually made it to Oakland
Where anticon. accepted me with open hands
(Journals got Personal) on a one dollar advance.
Non-Prophets! We had a hope that a UK label smashed
So I crossed out my eyes and signed to Epitaph
This is the hustle of an emcee
The (Distrust is Healthy)
In a dirty industry where the promises are empty
I'm more honest than friendly
More handsome than sexy
Let me bring you up to speed, (Humans do a Dance that's Deadly)


"Vital Signs"

"Vital Signs"

Shut the fuck up
And I don't know their looking dead tonight [x3]
Ain't looking like they got the strength to fight

Switch up your pulse patterns
What's the RPM of your breath
Kickstart your heart with a punch
Beating your chest
Squeezing your head till I pop vessels in your eye sockets
We talk your ears off till your blood pressure sky rockets
If ? check for lumps in your throat
Before you burn a bridge jump in a moat
Depending on whether you float or sink
Know how to swim or can't
You know what to think before you provoke some shit
Between concentration camp counselors
Giving first aid training
Mouth to mouth recessitate
Lady faint
When I see her face fading
I make her suck wind
Bring her vibrant colors back
See if she has any contacts
And find out where her mothers at
Said she had my number
But nothing other than that
When she said my number's up I laughed
The EMS came running back
Doing suicides the relay race of time
And space between me and destiny
But I leave no trace to find
She leaves nowhere to hide
I leave no hide to wear
Skin myselffeed my bones
Dress up in some tribal gear
Mummified every time I lived in the now
If you don't want to die
Then come alive and don't give your number out
Count down till the end of my show
Shout loud if you ain't ready to go
The out crowd might never know
Why I'm trying to find vital signs

And I don't know their looking dead tonight [x3]
Ain't looking like they got the strength to fight
Through the rest of the night

Their looking dead tonight [x3]
Ain't looking like they got the strength to fight


"Vonnegut Busy"

"Vonnegut Busy"

Of all the words of mice and men
The saddest are, "it might have been"
Of all the words of mice and men
The saddest are

I like for my shoes to look like they've been walked in
My house to look like it's been lived in
My car to look like a coffin that's been driven off a cliff
My career like a non-stop graveyard shift

[Verse 1:]
Don't clean the crime scene cause time means money
Don't need visine when my eyes seem bloody
I see dead people, but who doesn't?
We walk undercover, deadpan blending in with other human puppets
Discussing nothing but the sports and weather
If I stare long enough they all morph together
Then I freak out, it'll blow my cover
So I just keep out, no, we don't know each other
I'm on the road to recovery, no GPS
Hoist in my sails ‘till the sea breeze rests
Suck wind if you wanna player hate
Day to day I use my fear of falling asleep to stay awake
I appear psychic-like, but I'm not a psychic
You're just predictable with no fight left to fight it
If you write it they will come with a red pen and a tazer-gun
Let's do something


[Verse 2:]
I sift through the ashes in search of surviviors
Digging up the Earth filling urns with dirt
For what it's worth I'm richer than the cemetary soil
I use slant drilling to get my midnight oil
I've been moonlighting as a daydreamer
I'm at the wheel of an eight-seater, (hey) hey mister gatekeeper
Call me key master, no, home owner
One, two and to the three and to the foreclosure
They said the war was over, but we know it wasn't
They wanted more soldiers so we said "sure, fuck it"
Here's a fresh batch of people with setbacks
The poor folk, in fact they’re all broke cause of your debt traps
Picking the pockets of people who probably needed assistance most
Selling them lies, selling them out, sending them off to a distant coast
Telling them anything anyone left with impossible debt is receptive to
Breaking a promise of negative worth like "buddy there's nothing left for you"
Gotta buy buy buy to stay alive, they punish the payment delayed
Then they charge you for the low balance then they ask "why didn't you save?"
Too long we took it on the chin, too long we took it to our grave
Now we take what we can get, fuck an unlivable minimum wage
Do something

It might have been
(Do something)
It might have been
Of all the words of mice and men
The saddest are Vonnegut busy
Do it, do it - mess up my mind (Vonnegut busy)
Do it, do it - mess up my mind

[Verse 3:]
Sometimes I shoot myself in the foot, I put my foot in my mouth
Clean it while it’s there, and then i suck the bullet out
Reload the weapon, now that's conservation
Stay locked and loaded in a bad conversation
He making blank statements like the circles of your ammunition's finite
Visionary nothing, you're a man who lives with hindsigh
Return to the hive mind and call me back
I’m predicting early that you’ll be the Monday morning quarterback
So, cocksure in a culture that gangs up on bully-types
Mob mentality, as if that isn't what a bully's like
Inspiration strikes like an union
I write these lines just to cross 'em, I'm concluding
If my mama don't wanna she never has to work again
You never asked me why I spread myself so thin
I'm finna flirt dirty with the pen and flick my tongue on this bottom
I promise writer's block ain't never been a problem
I'll probably make the columns wanna pop bottles of pain relief
Sometimes it's what you don't say that says the most to say the least
Idle feet are the Devil’s fetish club
A highly exclusive spots none of us are members of
Dante is a scrub - we kicked him out the van and steamrolled him
In 2010 we had a couple dreams stolen
Me and B. Dolan relocked and reloaded
When it feels like you're going through hell, keep going
And as they say may the bridges that we burn light the way


Do it, do it - mess up my mind
Do it, do it - mess up my mind
Vonnegut busy


"Water Line"

"Water Line"

I just sit there
And let the thoughts flood
And I remind myself, "It's all right, it's all good, it's all love"
It's not though

Cause there's a kink in the armor
A pot hole I'm sinking in
While I think of the drama

So I stand up
I start to pace in my living room
Set my eye to the highway knowing that I'll play chicken soon

There's a vanity plate
With my name on it
There's a Davey Crockett hat with a Masonic fat cat under it

A musket rifle spitting at my feet
They want me to dance in the middle of the street

And I respect my elders, so I do as I'm told
But I offset the bell curve when I do it with soul
Losing control

Guilty feet do have rhythm
They just dance to the wrong theme music to amuse the villain
Instead of killing, I'll spare the raccoon
And start filling sandbags as I stare at the moon and let the thoughts flood

Blessed are those who are dammed
When the levee broke
How many choked on the steps to a slow dance?

A staircase to a hug with no hands
Accountability hung out to dry on the line of command

We let the thoughts flood
We remind ourselves "It's all right, it's all good, it's all love"
It's not though

Cause there's a kink in the armor
A pot hole I'm sinking in
Sharing a drink with my father

It's a family affair
The vanity we share

The waterline is rising and all we do is stand there [x6]


"Who Farted? Pt. 1"

"Who Farted? Pt. 1"

Anybody's who's been on tour...
(I like the way you say "tour".)
...sharing a van with a bunch of fools
you know there's always one important question:

Who Farted? Was is Captain Kirk?
Did it smell even worse than his acting work?

Who Farted? Was it Gary Coleman?
Is he always unhappy because of his crappy colon?

Who Farted? Was it Will Smith?
Did you check his underwear? They say he leaves Fresh Prints.

Who Farted? Was it Alyssa Milano?
She said to think outside the box, so I pissed in her taco.

Who Farted? Was it Jar-Jar Binks?
Is he the reason why the new Star Wars stinks?

Who Farted? Was it Salma Hayeck?
Did it smell just like shit? Well, I like it.


Who Farted? Was it Barack Obama?
Is Volcano Joe the Plumber dropping mini chocolate bombs huh?

Who Farted? Was it McGruff the Crime Dog?
Did he warn the kids about his big puffy slime log?

Who Farted? Johnny Cash, is that who farted?
When his ass passed gas was it dearly departed?

Who Farted? Was it Natalie Portman?
If I made whoopee to her cushion we'd have flatulent offspring.


Who Farted? Was it David Blaine?
Did the camera angle obscure abrasive stains?

Who Farted? Was it Bob Dylan?
The answer my friend, is blowing in the wind.

Who Farted? Was it Mos Def on Bill Maher?
Stick it where the sun don't shine.
You know, the black star.

Who Farted? Was it Ashcroft
smelling like a shitty version of Eminem?
Well then?


"Who's Crying?"

"Who's Crying?"

I go to the water park to show off my altered cock,
To any whore in a halter top who likes to talk a lot.
I force a sock into her mouth hole to keep her gums from flapping.
Strip her of her southpole, and bust a fuckin' backspin
On her northface. turn this court case into a dragged out lawsuit.
I'm attracted to her dad now, he's more cute.
"eeeyyooo!" i heard the guy comes quick from hand speed.
I'mma hafta fertilize his stomach with my man seed.
"then plant trees!" my brocolli cock needs watering.
Cry your eyes out above my rotting crotch and feed it awful things
Like love and affection, right? hug the erection tight!
She went down under, i fed that aussie slut some vegamite.
I get in fights every night because of my heavy metal persona,
With rapper stars but battle scars are my medals of honor.
We're rappers without a consciousness. i've had it with of all this pompous 'ish.
I'm just gonna' get obnoxious with...repeatedly callin' ya mom's a beach bum.