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In Case That It Isn't

from Weird Summer by Sankofa

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The song which barely made it! The EP was slated for six cuts until I heard a snippet of this beat and asked wingclipper if we could add it to our project.

lyrics

Clocking in and clocking out fighting the frown that crossed my mouth.
Might have just been a toxic cloud that left the caustic drops and how.
Can I repair my pair of Sneeps with melted Vibram souls.
Apologies for every lie that I just might have told?
Running on some kind of road with unexpected twists and turns.
Inside the slime of quips, my tongue of septic disses squirms.
A fist that's earned its keep beneath the tape and gloves obeys the grudge.
Burning years to ashes and smashing the passive days to dust.
Should I complain of stuff and make a labor of disdain?
Leaving the fatal entertain and gruff cradling the flame.
Abacus is for the paint by number apparitions.
Attack the system but the system laughs and hasn't listened.
The Frank Capra captioned hidden in this picture show.
Subsisting on the gristle of my bitterness and did it grow?
Thirsting for the proverbial fertilizer on a cursed shore.
That undertow was something though, submerge the door.

Sated, the beast naps in a bed of ribs that he snapped.
A pair of T-Macs is the facto grease trap that leaks fats.

so thank you for wearing our hearts on your sleeves.
The latest fashion trend to breathe and then leave.
It's no sweat the ghosts stay in old age with dope ways and cold breath.
The toll paid is trolls fade no doe rays, it's just me.
In old haunts that hold strong the souls bond and roll on.
A soul torn in five parts of why start to go wrong?
My heart departs upon an ark and bark the Parthenon dark.
Worn dull from years, so let the sharpening start.
Got a life raft to bypass the trite trash so why ask
if my mask It has a grin attached, the passion is back.
The task at hand is slipping through my rock biter fingers.
Samaritans of nothingness stop by and linger.
Got me trading brass knuckles for some rope and glass shrapnel.
Judgment passed, a smashed gavel, powder in the black gravel.
Now we're in abandoned chapels taking shots and chanting babble.
Unison the rabble rousing voices, but can it travel?

Another nail awaiting the strike of time's hammer
In a land where bystanders want to try and apply standards
Lives slandered
When the insincere begin to steer
And won't relinquish the wheel
Hands super glued feet bolted to the pedal's steel
Let them deal with problems problematic got a lot of them
Maudlin robbers corroborate and hop away so positive
The times that end alone, a velvet glove extends the drone.
Beelzebub cement and stone, his bent agenda then is known.
The dead awaken to the stench that emanates from trenches.
Playing Halo hookie on the heads of 10 who paid attention.
Simpler days condone tasks that threaten to break the present in half.
Holding a feather aloft from a coffin improbably hobbled impossible grasp.
Hidden a bit of debacle, forgiven an awful approach that the novelist wrote.
Toppling obelisks odelisques grovel and grope passing provocative notes.
The passion surpasses the hatred of bases whose rage is addictive placed in a prison.
A mosaic of fragments the day is depicted obey and just listen in case that it isn't.

credits

from Weird Summer, released June 20, 2020

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Sankofa Fort Wayne

My rhymes kick in like a turbobooster.

Fort Wayne.

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