yo bro when the mixtape drop? been bout your shit since my boy put me on you man. didnt know you had them bars bro, respect✊🏿 

"Ghosting You"  Dawson Dayne (Official Audio) Prod. Creamless

killslump -4 steps away… (prod. Felix hering)

[Verse 1]
Here lies a soldier.
But today he won’t be spoken of
as a servant, merchant, nor mercenary,
but merchandise,
for his life is now in the hands of the Lord,
like so many jewels used to fuel the feuds of fools.
How ironic men would honor these tools
With the weapons they use for warfare
HALF LEFT FACE!
Detail turns at pointed pace,
READY!
Rifles raise to air,
AIM!
All at the same time,
FIRE!

[Verse 2]
First volley,
his mother blinks,
taking her eyes off the coffin encasing his body
for the first time,
and in her mind rewinds the clock
to those first moments of morning sickness.
To the first time she witnessed his eyes
steering back at hers with fear, comfort, and wonder
READY!
Her vision blurred by tears denying to be refrained
AIM!
Pain propelled by memories of late night talks over board games
And all the forgotten names of the girls he brought home.
He was her blood;
Her bone.
The closest thing to a clone known to man
And it hurts to bury your own in the ground
With the sound of rifled rounds for a choir
Setting your soul on…..
FIRE!

[Verse 3]
Second volley,
Wife sobs calmly,
unlike the day he told her
“I’m being shipped.”
And the fit she threw once she knew
this war had claimed her husband.
She loved him from first sight to last kiss
and the in between details of a marriage
that ended with a video message,
and her attempting to kiss his glass lips
“I miss….
READY!
….you….
AIM!
….so much
I can taste your essence
On my tongue
And the lack of your scent in this air
burns my lungs like….
FIRE!

[Verse 4]
Final volley sounds,
And little boy stands with eyes cast down.
No tears, or snotty nose,
Just a rose
to be dropped
on a closed casket.
His first memories of pain
Will be of his father’s passing,
After laughing just three months ago
And watching him from the bedroom window,
waving,
like the smoke from those rifles
in the brisk wind of this cold winter’s day,
Goodbye.




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