prod. szelma

footsteps falling thru dilapidated stairs
layers of failures floating thru uninspired air
the giants that fall can only barely compare
repetitive patterns of the mentally impaired 
no help from the gods, a basket of blank stares
no help from the law, they rob us of our very air
hoardin all this power, why the fuck would you care?
you won the game, the title, the throne, and the heir

i see strangers in the night 
i see strangers in the night 

head infested with depression
gimme a vice and i'll ingest it 
therapy ineffective, no effort, could guessed it
should hung my head on the rack and just left it
i'm distant like a flowerbed left unattended
makin problems to solve em
there's always pills to absolve em 
and when the stash has dried up 
i start hittin the phone books
find me in the bathtub with a bottle and a toaster
easier than gettin sober

i see strangers in the night
i see strangers in the night

Strangers In The Night

prod. szelma

i'm waiting
just waiting
waiting
nothin ever happens 

a gemini in motion exposing conflicted emotions
imposing on the motives that make us less implosive
a self-composed poet tends to lose all focus
i'm feelin more hopeless than jeff buckley in the ocean 
another day wasted, between four falls disintegrating  
a couple mornin xans will leave my brain faded
self medication is the therapy i created
all my heroes are dead, i just copied and pasted

i'm waiting
just waiting
waiting
nothin ever happens

a self-proclaimed pacifist as i pass a fist right past your lips
as soon as i forgive your sins i cross your name right off the list
you thought you saw the end of this, but it hasn't even started yet
i'm john coltrane ascending into spiritual eternal bliss
the morning sun inspires the light behind your eyes
i learned to disguise the fire inside with white wine
the rich get richer while the poor die trying
suicide tattooed in my mind, wish i was lyin

i'm waiting
just waiting
waiting
nothin ever happens

Nothing Ever Happens

prod. szelma
words cwik

you say your word is virtue truth be told you’re a fraud
i’m the false god prophet soaking you up like the blob
playin with your emotions like an artist plays a con 
or like a con plays an artist, one of us is playing god
when I meet ya in the alley one of us is gettin robbed
who me? Probably, I’m no Ali with the arms
high as a kite I’m eye level with the stars
got me all fucked up like Howard Hughes pissing in jars
searching for a muse like Anna Karina to Godard
dig my feet into the streets, not gettin very far 
i'm drinking in the studio, don’t need no fucking bars
i was born with music in my blood, don’t need no fucking bard 

comatose
ya got me like comatose
comatose


belly down depakote, my mind stays purple though
on top like scottie with a bad case of vertigo
when I play poker I never know when to fold
for 27 years never had nowhere to call a home
i’m not complaining though, I’m painting this picture slow
level with the devil and his murder of impostor crows
the earth’s so small when I’m high on my tippy toes
looking down at a world I’ll never get the chance to know 
so pour two more glasses, the past is drastically relapsing 
the words you’ve been crafting got other cats relaxin 
facts are only facts after the fatal re-enactment 
got the whole world crying, I’ll be the last one laughing

comatose
ya got me like comatose 
comatose

Comatose

bmore, bedroom production, watery cocktail reality

FALSE GOD PROPHECY out soon

its supposed to sound like this

CWIK