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When the Grey Mist Lands
The past can really take you back... But Irelands our native land
http://www.timyoung.net/contrast/images/cannibals.jpg Above me, my son Abe is asking, pa pa, why’d you stay? You sat and Lasted eight years to the day, in fact, Potato Famine taints your land What Abe don’t grasp, theres ways which we could stay, adapt Grew a kid of labour, trained to trap. Lay them down in blades of grass Pray to get a great big catch and gazing at a family, hungry And a gun goes bang, would scare them, couldn't take the chance Our aims fantastic, barrelless, it’s arrows in our strained elastics Drag it back for Mama who would bag the meat that's bad, then Me and dad, as hunters, take the sack as bait to catch it’s mate Maintain the stash we ate from, trait of man to take no glamour Stacked beside the gate we had a paved-in patch to axe swing And the blade would slash the oak tree at an angle, into fractions I would take them to the stove so we could bake them into rations Because Mama made the pasta dashed with basil, glazed in flax seed But the ache still stabs me, damn, it takes me back, the seasons changing No more people out this way, so the meals were samples, all occasions It had seared your Grandma badly, she appeared so hollow, vacant And one day, exhaustion takes her. Certain fact, her cheeks amazing So we ate her, sadly, she was first to pass and she looked tasty… But we made it, days grew happier, the pain was soothed away And we grew a great potato crop, the same way that it used to be. I married off a maiden, she got pregnant and produced you, Abe You grew up raised to wait your turn, to stomach every vegetable That sometimes they are scarce, so taste is nothing, its digestible If nothing, it will rescue you from suffering, a lesson for what's coming The men said plague is coming back, it’s stressful but it’s coming I mentioned to your Mom that my repentance had been summoned Cause my energy had plummeted, my mettles an encumbrance So the day that I drew breathless she dissected me to eat, like deer The reason that you're even here regretting what your teeth had pierced You stand beside my tomb, alive, and grieving through a sea of tears From underneath my grave I say these words I wish that he could hear |
Elevation
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me so hungy
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Starvin Marvin here bros
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This was cool, almost too many rhymes ahaha. I got stuck in a couple spots. Looked like you were just messin around with some different schemes and shit. Gotta be the first poem ive ever heard talking about flax seed lol. Why dont you sign up for the AWOL league man? I'd love to read your pieces if you participated. Anyways as far as this piece goes it was technically sound with perfect mechanics it was just the story itself that kind of bored me. Usually im all over your stuff though. Keep dropping. If you get a second to peep my latest id appreciate it also. Stay up bro
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Stacked beside the gate we had a paved-in patch to axe swing
And the blade would slash the oak tree at an angle, into fractions I would take them to the stove so we could bake them into rations Because Mama made the pasta dashed with basil, glazed in flax seed Dope |
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I stopped readong after.like 8bars cuz fuck ur history lesson tbcancer. Im trynna read sum gun bars an some brag schemes.
Fuckin history channel.meets maya blandgelou Shit was wack Foh |
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Cool name
I invented u Thats my joke. Dickriding faggot. Quote me where i said it was complex Shits just boring as fuck Fuck i wanna hear u rap about the potato famine in ireland for....lol...ok trill nye |
@oats
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Ty for reading ereyone |
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