By the time I was twelve, I realized I was confined to cell: tied tightly by the binds of a Bible belt
My intel provided vibrantly well, suddenly finding myself in a pyre designed within Hell.
The clientelle cried and knelt, but I could tell that half of them were only there to buy and sell
So as the quiet fire swelled, thought I might as well
Get on my grind and try to find the sky myself.
Dynamite and shells, trynna open up the atmosphere, blast it clear
Manifest a master seer - Chatter's here
I'm knowin' a lot of wordsmiths searching for this,
Digging for clues but only finding more dirt in the ditch.
And yeah, I take a while to be convinced; never sure about the afterlife, but my Demon is
I'll bet my life he's got a story or two. A life like a thrilled movie turned horribly true.
You wouldn't believe me if I told ya about my supernatural soldier
And it ain't just my frickin' vivid imagination,
Just thinkin' about that theory leave me livid and mad enraged, kid
I'm seeing apparations and visions, man. I've got a follower and this shit isn't Instagram
So show yourself, Mr. Man. Who the fuck are you?
Just a fluke in my perception? Are my screws fucking loose?
I've got witnesses, this shit is real. The frigidness I feel isn't normal
This is for the ghost on my shoulderblades, maybe from an older age
Shot off a stage or laid to waste in a motorcade.
It could be anyone - even a demon. Mysterious, it seems. I'm seeing my decency leavin'
Along with all my sanity. If you're a fan of me, then tell me
If this isn't a haunting, then what the Hell can it be?
It's my proof of God. All I need to believe that outside of manmade books written to deceive
There's an afterlife of sorts. A plan and a destination. A higher power at the head of creation.
I don't imagine that primitive authors got it right.
I've read a lot of lies told through the prophets' eyes
But like the game of telephone you played in grade school,
An old idea passed around enough can be made new.
But it's the plain truth. Some don't entirely die. I know a guy who passed, still surprisingly alive
Coming with the photobombs, screwing with dreams,
And my fuckin' homies think he's cooler than me
Every time I think I've got the upper hand,
Something new happens and I have to come up with another plan
A way to push it away, ignore the voices
But we're down to the wire and I'm running out of choices.
I've got another worry deep in my mind, though - 
That we've been dealing with it as a benign ghost
Now pay attention to the message of this verse - 
The fact of the matter is that it could be something worse.
A lone roamer from a darker dimension, raised to higher ground through the spark of ascension
And the theory is demons are serious G's, man
And I don't fuck with gangsters when I can't even see them.
I think it wants to be heard, or maybe it's convinced that I would never say a word
Well wrong MC, motherfucker, you picked a motormouth.
Now I'm spreading 'round the story to those in doubt.
So there. It's recorded now. I poured it out like a libation,
Cuz I'm at the end of my patience.
You wanna be heard? Here's your place among the rappin' vets.
Guess we'll see what happens next.

Daemon Arcanus

Mike East