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Distorted Prose
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Dalek
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1
Broke stride as last of men realized their deep deceit.
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This troubling advance of half-assed crews crowd these streets.
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Never mind of who I am, son, just listen when I speak
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Broken paragraphs hold wrath of a hundred million deep.
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Bleak circumstance led masses to only want to dance
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A bastard child of Reaganomics posed in a B-Boy stance
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Make our leaders play minstrel, Left with none to lead our people.
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How the fuck am I gonna shake your hand, when we never been seen as equals?
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Deemed evil by those housed in church steeples.
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False prophets read backwards from broken tablets to the feeble,
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I seen you!
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Regurgitate their lies.
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I'll bide my time with scrolls and ancient's wine.
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Heady brew left mark on this hazy scribe.
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If stars align I suppose even the blind will see,
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How they stole our last voice, corrupted culture into industry.
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Few minutes remain,
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A tame soul wanders wild when it dreams.
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Mine are filled with ill visions of soot and dope fiends.
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These slit wrists won't rest till I spill these last drops.
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Tarnished skin only sin when I awoke on sidewalk.
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Seen your movements through peripheral
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Remain same individual.
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When a man's viewed as criminal to act animal is logical.
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Audible tones honed to hold substance
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Form sentence
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Poor reluctant poet, speak prose
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Refuse to beg repentance
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Reluctant poet speak prose
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Incite our peoples
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We got raked through those coals
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Once the truth was divulged.
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Conscience calls thoughts subliminal
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Actions all cyclical
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Deplorable descendants of men depressed clinical.
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Answers seem visible when visionless
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Useless souls fold under pressure like hands pray to false Jesus.
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Inadequate adversaries advance awkwardly.
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Anger expressed outwardly
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Causes ranks to break amongst these frail MC's.
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Your fictional tales told with conviction.
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Concise concepts once written enter bloodstream
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since this inks been forbidden.
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Distorted poet, speak prose
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Incite our peoples
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We got raked over coals
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But the truth's still untold.
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Meaning lost to these zealots
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Prefer bullets to ballots
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Watch the rich sip from chalice
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As these eyes fill with malice
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Peasant hands remain callous
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as our days retain darkness
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I swallow razor blades to keep my vocal cords sharpened.
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Morbid mixture of mistrust and anger paints picture.
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Perception now blurred words slurred to form scripture.
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These sullen souls misinformed
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Storm gates of stronghold
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Strange fate that I chose
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Morbid poet speak prose.
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Tattered voices arose
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Red Blood written on scroll
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Escapes throat an ill flow
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For my violence atoned.
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Modest thoughts monotone
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Infant MC's play grown
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Found them hung in hallways
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from cords on microphones.
Daleks - The Cage That Screams | Babelco...
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