Peg-legged and deadbeat. Bedspread's like lead sheets.
Flying in my metal 'copter with Dead Prez and Epstein
But Fran Drescher managed the land pressure
the plan's to lower the lever into Sudan's texture
and let the demands of your predecessor reap remembrance
We flee from censors, it's a sheek dimension
full of lazers and underground prisms
It happens through each digression
Have a Vatican priestly lesson 'cause that adamantium shield is meltin'
We rap to fans, it's a green profession
Your idea of an assassin's tan is a yeast infection
Let's move from Oregon trails to silk road - pork in a pail
Fuck a plan, cup your hands - it's the possible source of the Grail
Lordless and frail, we listen and pore over tales, consider the malice of strangers
The knights of the round table stumbling over each other trying to get out of the chamber
...
The shadows in the room are gaining ground. Don't sleep.
There are forces at work that explain the cold feet & the Oldies
To those who can only see as far as the ocean:
horizon lines skew your perception.
Congratulations, now go buy a compass & a legend
|