March
Monday 11 May 2009 photo 2/5
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ROYAL K
So yeah, basically a lot of people ask me
How life was then
so, here it is
My old home smelled of birth , boiled red beans , kernel oil, and hand me down poetry.
It's brick white washed walls widowed by first paint.
The tin roof top humming songs of promise While time is
locked in to demonic rhythm with the leaves.
The trees had the wind hugging them, loving them a torturous love. Buggin' wind,
It was over and done. The round cemented pot kept the rain drops cool.
Neighbors and dwellers spatter in the pool.
Kids playing football with a sandy sock.
We had what we got, and it wasn't alot. No one knew they were poor
we were All innocent to greed's judgment.
The country was combusting with life like a long hibernating volcano with a long tail of success like J-lo.
Farmers, fishers, fighters, even fools had a place in production.
The coastal line was the place of seduction
the coral reefs make you daze in reflections
the women walked with grace and perfection
And we just knew we were war be us to nothing war bid us to we were glorious boom
Then one day it came spoiled the parade like rain
like oil in a flame it pained
the heart attack sudden, harder than eleven
harder than a punch in the womb
harder than the lunch you consume for us
Yeah, the cancerous fuel more loss
Men who made killing hoagies sellin proud folly
like healthy livestock
it made ties rock with a diligent mock
Confused are the people infusing the evil
Profess to reject like jews in the sequel so weird
They came in the morning with a warning or without
The herdin was a barter only certin was doubt
A mythical tale no soul knows well
liberty went to hell freedom core four shells
fierce was the blow keep your ears to the shore
it appears Orwell was right in '84
half baked brother killed mother in the store
with all of us watching we didn't love her anymore
my poor mother was my old home
Goodwill is looted. In my old home
Religion is burnt down. In my old home
Kindness is shackled. In my old home
Justice has been raped. In my old home
Murderers hold posts. In my old home
The land vomits ghosts. In my old home
We got pistols with eyes corruption and lies
trusted snakes and death without brakes
suspicious newborns live in our horn
Used to the pain rack bodies not grain
Chop limbs not trees spread lives not wealth
Seek vengeance not truth the craziest youth
Moist pain not plants nigger fuck your plans
Bandits are leaders there in my old home
Rumors are law. In my old home
Sedatives are faith. In my old home
Rapers are praised. In my old home
Demons dress well. In my old home
Infants are nailed. In my old home
Spirits are jailed. In my old home
Grudges grow tails In my old home
Our roads have seen electric hate and
Our women labor beneath stubborn fate.
Our farms produce guilty grub and
Our kids depend on shifty luck.
see Our news is life for death is old.
So don't blame me for truth i've told.
Goodwill is looted. In my old home
Religion is burnt down. In my old home
Kindness is shackled. In my old home
Justice has been raped. In my old home
Murderers hold posts. In my old home
The land vomits ghosts. In my old home
How life was then
so, here it is
My old home smelled of birth , boiled red beans , kernel oil, and hand me down poetry.
It's brick white washed walls widowed by first paint.
The tin roof top humming songs of promise While time is
locked in to demonic rhythm with the leaves.
The trees had the wind hugging them, loving them a torturous love. Buggin' wind,
It was over and done. The round cemented pot kept the rain drops cool.
Neighbors and dwellers spatter in the pool.
Kids playing football with a sandy sock.
We had what we got, and it wasn't alot. No one knew they were poor
we were All innocent to greed's judgment.
The country was combusting with life like a long hibernating volcano with a long tail of success like J-lo.
Farmers, fishers, fighters, even fools had a place in production.
The coastal line was the place of seduction
the coral reefs make you daze in reflections
the women walked with grace and perfection
And we just knew we were war be us to nothing war bid us to we were glorious boom
Then one day it came spoiled the parade like rain
like oil in a flame it pained
the heart attack sudden, harder than eleven
harder than a punch in the womb
harder than the lunch you consume for us
Yeah, the cancerous fuel more loss
Men who made killing hoagies sellin proud folly
like healthy livestock
it made ties rock with a diligent mock
Confused are the people infusing the evil
Profess to reject like jews in the sequel so weird
They came in the morning with a warning or without
The herdin was a barter only certin was doubt
A mythical tale no soul knows well
liberty went to hell freedom core four shells
fierce was the blow keep your ears to the shore
it appears Orwell was right in '84
half baked brother killed mother in the store
with all of us watching we didn't love her anymore
my poor mother was my old home
Goodwill is looted. In my old home
Religion is burnt down. In my old home
Kindness is shackled. In my old home
Justice has been raped. In my old home
Murderers hold posts. In my old home
The land vomits ghosts. In my old home
We got pistols with eyes corruption and lies
trusted snakes and death without brakes
suspicious newborns live in our horn
Used to the pain rack bodies not grain
Chop limbs not trees spread lives not wealth
Seek vengeance not truth the craziest youth
Moist pain not plants nigger fuck your plans
Bandits are leaders there in my old home
Rumors are law. In my old home
Sedatives are faith. In my old home
Rapers are praised. In my old home
Demons dress well. In my old home
Infants are nailed. In my old home
Spirits are jailed. In my old home
Grudges grow tails In my old home
Our roads have seen electric hate and
Our women labor beneath stubborn fate.
Our farms produce guilty grub and
Our kids depend on shifty luck.
see Our news is life for death is old.
So don't blame me for truth i've told.
Goodwill is looted. In my old home
Religion is burnt down. In my old home
Kindness is shackled. In my old home
Justice has been raped. In my old home
Murderers hold posts. In my old home
The land vomits ghosts. In my old home
Visa toppen
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