Instrumental: Lionheart by Emancipator
PIcture by Brad Reynolds (Lionheart Productions) http://integralartandstudies.com/LionHeart-Productions.phpJoshi

You can complain or you can come plain, what matters is what you do when you're done saying what you're saying, easy to see the world sucks, hard to go out and change it, most stay in, stuck in a state of restless complacence, I criticize the government's weak hands and then use my weekends to get wasted, yeah we're hypocrites can you taste it, the way we wanna project on someone else the masks we keep buried in our basement, scared with how their truth will change our placement in a game we never agreed to play but keep playing while the dragon's slaying us with all six heads of our self, we missed the picture that came when a God bled out his wealth through the veins of a human, do you see who can help...? You can help. You can. Help.
Why should this distance be our separateness, why insist on deafness in a world with enough sense to leave you breathless when you open up to accept this blessing and come to rest with the rest of us, are you helpless to the hell you trust, feel the air creak as the bell rusts with a story that has nothing to tell us, just a tumble of ladies and fellas who could hurt enough to make a masochist god crazy jealous, save us, sell us, you are a calm become insanely zealous for the fear of what is in us, come listen, come look, bear witness to the beginning of an instance where we understand what is and what isn't our business, Love is the only thing that remains when I look back at you across this distance, persistently persisting at giving meaning to our existence.

Dane

Its a hard way down when you're a downhearted, crown starving, drowned artist masquerading as a fading star, waiting for the pain to dart across your synapses, massive class the passive is passed by in a drastic and last try approach to broach the poaching of emotions, boasting on the strength of your potions, in motion with the trojans and posing the murder of crows a most imposing symposium, ranting at the podium, pandering pandemonium, doting on the groaning of the ajoining, drone striking the mic to spike vicodin trike ridin mike tyson versus the bison, christ risen up in your business and he’s right in your fuckin kidneys, lookin to rid these desperate half assed thoughts from passin the holocaustic, bossy masochistic, master kid who spits past these sassy sarcastic bastards and pastors the passing, bye you wave and wonder if you’ll see his fuckin face again, his head’s in space again, watch out when he’s raised the pen, whats his fuckin race again? (white, very white)

Josh

Can't trust myself, I'm a turn-coat, cold and numb but something inside burns slow, I don't feel it, I don't feel it, this hurts--whoa, try to make it stop, just gets worse though, an all time, new, dirt low, bless me, bless me God while I curse all, can't remember how far it's been since the first fall, but it's felt like winter since then, where's my spring, where's my summer been, when does this season die and the sky write out the reason why I only breathe to survive the pain that bleeds in vibes where it hides deep in tides of rain by the reaper's side and the forest leafless as if these trees have died, but there's a seed inside and when I breathe I know this Tree's alive.

Dane

when you see the signs, you ought to stop
to drop the thoughts of mindless drivel
from downing shots and drowning liver
breaking organs screech, you shiver
bitterly unable to get down with this sound
currently residing in a town underground
...
youve found we’re constantly growing, but monsters keep showing
get sponsored by boeing, then think that theyre flowing
and ask for atonement, when shown the true venting of these pent up 
and immense mental ventricles, expelling a flood of bloody thoughts
in a preposterous display, of a raucous playtime, its a trained rhyme
while the plane dives through the insane cries of a hive thats just trying to survive
though many lives lie under lock and key, this chest is locked from the
demons and heathens, the bruisers and the users
creaming all the losers and loosing all the captives
dreaming space cruisers, ensuing in lap dancing marilyn manson, i'm cranson, you pansys

Lionheart (the Rap)

South Hall

Track 2 of KEAWE's EP 'Our Lines Intersected'. 

KEAWE - Chrysanthemum

lyrics:

Girl what you need in life is a hazmat suit
You run around in all these abstract loops
You, you're the emotional kind
Lady, learn to steady your mind
I don't wanna hear my name in every rhyme
But you should write a song or nine
Here is a melody line

I guess you hold a grudge like your mama done
Can't judge fact from fiction in an argument
If you can't take off the mask, I've already won
Baby I don't make the rules, I just play for fun
Oh look, you're good and ready to cry
Surprise, you're the emotional kind
But don't you get tired of lying or pressing rewind?
You could write a song without anyone else in mind

You Could Write A Song

The second single off of 'shapefile'!!!! The album will be out soon!!

Peep the bandcamp @ www.brainwader.bandcamp.com

Tom

Koitus