Championship: Killamanjaro vs Pulse

[Saint]

RL Topical Tourney 2004

Topic: "Stained"

Killamanjaro:
Jesus
Tupac

..from genesis, the word was written as mythic depictions of pegasus
with spreaded wings, sons of menelik framed religions for the desolate
at the precipice stood, words enlightening where great Cepheus would
serenade the desert, and fuck ancestors in degrees only oedipus could


conceived in misery, I was born a man before I could sleep thru infancy
so when speaking of peace, I repeat dreams seeded in medieval history
of evil imageries, poisionous demons, every mystical beast
..made belief, that there's no angels in heaven, no mythical peace

..I would lay hands to the blind, grant chants to the pantomimes
enhanced their chances for life, but even blinds can be slanted in sight
as we parted ways, I saw harsher tastes were better than darker days
raise the sharpest blade, carved spaces to let the pain at heart escape


..then starts the change, I'll begin to strike back, lazarus survived rap
retired by five caps, five mics rip while the devil by my side clapped
I saw life lapse, wars waged within, but day 3 is when plagues begin
to eventually be a man, my destiny demands, gangsta rap slain in a BM

in a place of sin, live armed baboons, making music that claps you
..but Christ takes the taboo, of carrying the crosses you made tattoo
same as Matthew, every disciple left in the bible, gave as he had to
while you've stayed waiting for the game of life to redraft you

my life was a trailer of bad moves, yet they mimic, mistaking an image
for the sacred, but gimmicks all eventually find a limit in lyrics
...words can come alive, when two sons'll die, either crucifix or bullets
its the same mic, the same pulpit, we the same blood stains of bullshit

Pulse:

It's been a while...
since these grimaces twisted into diffident smiles
considered vile, that we'd deny the cries of an innocent child
and live in denial, everyday's the same shit, different pile
cuz we only see what we wanna see, with the flick of a dial
sitting in aisles, like our solidarity is making a mark...
truth is we're breaking apart like lepers without faith in their hearts
the pain is too stark, we fear closeness cuz we're branded with scars
so we keep our handshakes off the cuff, like a candid remark
caught with the hand in the jar, its hard to understand where we are
and can't hang a frame of mind, til we've canvassed our hearts
still we're brandishing arms, that keep us shedding beautiful tears
somehow smoothing the smears of a putrid view that's rooted in fear
hoping truth will appear, and cut the ribbons of the unforgiven
cuz this world's too overwhelming and the pain's too underwritten
when the individual has become minimal... infinitesimal
I'd take a fist in the gut just to claim I've been swayed by something visceral
escape the ridicule, its visible we're at war with our thoughts
so we're scolding the tots for crying as we're combing their knots
the focus is lost, so I've been taught to take a muted stance
and live seven syllables short of, 'Accept me for who I am'
cuz I could use a hand, but people don't believe in themselves
and are only eager to help as a way to displace the grief they've been dealt
let the grievances out, as tears drop from eyes like candlewax
from the straw that broke the camel's back...
and that camel was Daniel Black.

Winner = Pulse