WK1: Coup (0-0) VS. ZenLand (0-0) [ZENLAND WINS, 7-0.]

Coup · 02-12-2013, 01:31 PM

I was, I am.

I was the pundit of urban table scraps
An arbitrary tenor of little bad battle raps
Blew ratty-tat yayo bags, wired in rabbi pants
Had aqua lines bloom bonsai fruit with apple-jax
If words were flora man, I'd harvest one jungle plant
Rooting the old self fam, an artist bud with pastel plans

Now today I occupy this table chair in agony
My back turned away against life so anti me
My rib cage is unable to sigh a word to speak
It's stiff outside, hot inside in my chest oblique
Serpent soul in fits of nostalgia needing priest
Cobra eyes left dead in that belly of his feast

The old me is behind, under the locust moon
I look forward to the dawn chorus raising ruin
I'll pop the train for 16, a hot & ready spaghetti hop
On one dollar menu sold rotty-shot up in Acme lot
Trailing this train to sustain my inner sickness stint
To where it breaks, clinic my cancer in an instant hit

The future is set and I want to blur the past
Free bird flying to where the multis do multitask
Under a zenith sun in the land of sleeping giants
Battle the sleeping greats. Me the topical migrant
Now I have my shot, so I thought at least then
The truth they soon told me, was that I slept on them

02-12-2013, 01:31 PM	#1
Coup Don't believe the hype Join Date: Feb 2013 Posts: 572 Battle Record: 4-5 Rep Power: 0	I was, I am. I was the pundit of urban table scraps An arbitrary tenor of little bad battle raps Blew ratty-tat yayo bags, wired in rabbi pants Had aqua lines bloom bonsai fruit with apple-jax If words were flora man, I'd harvest one jungle plant Rooting the old self fam, an artist bud with pastel plans Now today I occupy this table chair in agony My back turned away against life so anti me My rib cage is unable to sigh a word to speak It's stiff outside, hot inside in my chest oblique Serpent soul in fits of nostalgia needing priest Cobra eyes left dead in that belly of his feast The old me is behind, under the locust moon I look forward to the dawn chorus raising ruin I'll pop the train for 16, a hot & ready spaghetti hop On one dollar menu sold rotty-shot up in Acme lot Trailing this train to sustain my inner sickness stint To where it breaks, clinic my cancer in an instant hit The future is set and I want to blur the past Free bird flying to where the multis do multitask Under a zenith sun in the land of sleeping giants Battle the sleeping greats. Me the topical migrant Now I have my shot, so I thought at least then The truth they soon told me, was that I slept on them