1. |
10,000 WORDS
01:00
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[VERSE 1]
So sinister
Stole sentiments
Soul finisher
No generals
No heroes
And no benefits
Stll tentative
No polishing, no finishing
Faux simplicity, implicit spoken vestigial limbs
I’m soaking it in
I’m hoping that the poet within can still hold a grin
I’m knowing that my focus is thin
And so it begins
I've been sewing chords with my kin
Establishing original sin, the rain hits
It's another thunderstorm
Suddenly, someone's torn asunder
Everyone dies in the summer
This heat ain't from the sun
You're running for nothing
You see death is coming
Nigga, don't you turn that corner
Crooked cop get a quota
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2. |
*author!*
00:35
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3. |
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4. |
ANYTHING AT ALL!
02:40
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[CHORUS]
Every man humbled, calling their gods X5
[VERSE 1]
I feel understood as the rat twitches on the trap
Gat sharpens gat
Panic, growing tired of attacks man.
The visage vestigial
Visit the poet at the pinnacle, asking how all the years have turned ephemeral
Conflicted on how to consider the truly inexplicable
Time is cyclical, all historians are turning cynical
[CHORUS]
[VERSE 2]
Every man humbled, calling their gods
Appalling facades
Lie to the all knowing, scared to lose favor if god sees you for what you are
People project their insecurities onto god like a mother does her daughter, ironic, huh?
Everything recognizable turns into ego fodder
But I don’t need my body
I done been calling God for 19 years, phone still ringing
I like to think of it like a momma texting their dead child's phone whenever their birthday hits, it's all to cope
And of course you know the result, but deep down you still hope
A blank stare into the universe, overwhelmed by its vastness
The closer I get to truth, the further I get from understanding
People commanding purpose, establishing fear as axiom,
The silence became a curse for the people looking for answers
But if God gave me this job I'd consider myself a slave and break my wrists to break free of the imaginary chains
Plato laughs in his imaginary cave, combating sadness with the passion in his phrases
The poet's most potent facet is patience but,
With all that I gave, I still haven't gave enough
Watch the way I beat myself up, and somehow pull a punch
[VERSE 3]
Contemplating suicide the whole ride home
Called my hypothetical manager up, they told me
"If you go, just make sure that your note is in iambic pentameter.
New cash cow is dead rappers."
I tried to be mad but my mama needs bills paid, and now a nigga getting tempted
You say I owe them a lot but I couldn't pay off the debt
Visit my dad in a dream and watch him drink himself to death
Visit god and I'll make him watch me sacrifice myself
Me and the corpse of philosophy, my g, it’s cuffing season
I'm on the edge of the cliff and I just need a single reason
The cops came and my mom called me selfish for trying, but i was just trying to help
Fear manifests itself as an all consuming nausea
[CHORUS]
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5. |
.38 INSIGNIA!
00:23
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6. |
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7. |
POSTMODERNIST ARCHITECT!
02:59
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8. |
UNSOUND!
01:54
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9. |
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10. |
'GROUP THERAPY'
01:35
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11. |
WTLCR, 03/2020_DEMO.mp3
03:43
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12. |
SHADOWDANCER, SIDE A!
02:12
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13. |
THE STORM!!
02:34
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14. |
*pressure!*
00:33
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Artistic merit is a term that is used in relation to cultural products when referring to the judgment of their perceived quality or value as works of art. Artistic merit is a crucial term, as pertains to visual art. However, many people fail to distinguish between the problem of distinguishing art from non-art and the problem of distinguishing good art from bad art. In many cases, people claim that such-and-such object is "not art" or "not real art" when they intend to say that they do not consider it to be good or successful art.
The stoppage of breaking, called also asphyxiation. If it is complete, no air at all reaches the lungs. The lack of oxygen and excess of carbon dioxide in the blood will cause almost immediate loss of consciousness. Though the heart continues to beat briefly, death will follow in a manner of minutes unless emergency measures are taken to get breathing started again.
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15. |
REVISITING THE MOUNTAIN
02:12
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16. |
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17. |
A CAVERN!!!
03:12
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18. |
"ART IS INVOLUNTARY"
01:33
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19. |
THE LIGHT?
03:15
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20. |
*brother!*
01:26
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21. |
*subject!*
01:53
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Decuma Michigan
The man of no identity.
Author, musician, and rogue existentialist born in Detroit.
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