1. |
Intro
01:25
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Floating above troubled oceans of love, it’s an emotional drug like the potions we pour up. Devotions to unseen, exalted and made clean, as green as the purity of knowing there’s no me. And now I am so free, growing to this height, glowing through nights and days with no respite. Unrequited, sending out messages to no one particular but hope they’re still getting them. Never searching for an answer back, it’s unconditional joy, how do you answer that? No, never with words, we could learn from birds as they fly, cheating time. I escaped my mind.
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2. |
The Hourglass
04:24
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Borne out of sky, not asking why, happy to spit these rhymes in straight lines, undefined like doves that cry, destined to win but I’d love to die. The one divine, the two in harmony pump life like arteries. Y’all are starting me on a circle track, answering until I circle back. I hurt the track with sadist wisdom until you see you are the greatest victim. Sacrifice your mind to these prisons. Thoughts reflect in offspring like prisms. And this schism rises up. You sign in blood with no time to trust. No shine in rust, that’s just the surface. You deserve to not feel worthless. Consider the world from a whole new perspective. See through clean glass a past that’s defective. Never wait and wonder how you can be effective. Live in this moment, you are the objective. Born out of mud, expecting love, lived through floods still yet to come, doves are drowned, turned the air to ground, it’s like unspeakable fear paired with sound. Venerate to demonstrate the demons that will emanate once faith is lost to a vacant cross, a faceless hate and an ancient cost that’s due today. Unmoved to pray, approach too soon and it will move away. Sometimes we need to feel scared just to know our strength is still there. Unprepared once teeth are bared, guns are drawn and speech is snared by open sight through broken light, uncertain souls that hope for life, choking spite back down and out; a mystic’s path is roundabout. We loudly shout to free the world, even if nobody seems concerned. The pearl of the moon speaks early doom. What do I do alone in my room? Think of the universe blessed with the curse of the few of us.
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3. |
DSM-IV-TR
02:00
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It’s watching a film you’re the lead in. Edges bleeding, as in a dream but it’s not a dream sequence. Swollen eyes looking for reprieve, it’s the season for cleaving spiritually, no other reason. Reflect upon the last words of the order and watch as they melt with determined borders. Blast like mortar, ten cents none the shorter, coming up roses cut in quarters. Corners we stay at until they call coroners. I want to know what love is like Foreigner. Poor little rich boys looking for a fix get ran for their kicks, but that’s the risk. I’ve felt this way since I was six: that the world in my mind was much better than the one that exists. Imagination takes over in fits, and why wouldn’t I prefer that to this? Endless energies define my pedigree. My head’s in the clouds so you’re always ahead of me. Steady streams of fire to inspire, I ain’t talking about weed when I say we get higher. I mean mountains of thoughts, mental cliffs to jump off where the landing’s soft and the light is lost in the awesome night. We lay chips on the call for the cost of life. It’s a caustic sight, not to mention claustrophobic. But I remain stoic, carved out of stone and heroic. I wouldn’t say that I’m a poet, more like a leaky faucet flowing.
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4. |
Quiet Boy Anthem
02:22
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Sleeping while you’re creeping, never speaking, dead to the world like the last Mohican; no words because my tongue’s where my cheek is, closed beak while the rest of y’all squeaking. Sounds bleak, but really sounds not at all. Not involved, so how could I drop the ball? My voice is small, I don’t want y’all to hear it because if you ain’t near it no choice but to fear it. Come through clear like Scientology, a slight nod is all you get in apology. I’m a slight God the way I hacked my biology, listen to the wind blow: that’s my biography. DB’s always in the negative. Meditate on the track, get introspective. I don’t think you want to mess with my collective or join up because we get mad selective like selectors. Booming with the dog whistle and going raw over beats until it’s all gristle. Quiet Boys is an army and a coast guard. Look around, ask yourself who is the most hard? I straight stunt like Bogart, conserving air and all y’all just some blowhards. Don’t start with me, you’ll get the treatment; a little taste of the Quiet Boy teachings. Never talk unless spoken to first. You’re straining your ears just to hear this verse. Every week, every month, every year, a retrospective that you wouldn’t want to hear; I write my rhymes in invisible ink because it ain’t about what you say, it’s what you think. So monastic, make you look bombastic, I keep beliefs to myself like my mind’s fasting. Taking vows watch while I break it down and bless beats with my presence like a sacred cow. Communicate like I was born with no cords, an immutable shield against lyrical swords. So keep swinging and I’ll keep singing in my heart to start bringing this peace to fruition. Peace of mind, paean to discrete divine, and my privilege is shut up and listen in. Never hear a branch break under my feet, walk soft on the earth not made for me, but go hard over beats that I slay with ease. I’m in the trees speaking underneath the breeze. Breathing. No time for words because the truest wisdom is always unheard.
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5. |
Fate
01:30
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You can’t change it, stuck in your brain it’s outrageous; charting a path that folds out in stages. The brainless ones are the enlightened, scraping and fighting, not worried about what life is or could be. Assess things are they should be or would like Layne (R.I.P.), good, right, pain; all three are really the same on this plane. Our experience is a stain of one more accurate and immaculate. I self-actualize with raps to spit, trying to set my course by screaming at a wall until I'm old and horse. Bold, and I never did learn remorse. Only those with the patience will know the source, mapped out before you ever had a say. I guess it’s true that we’ll have our day. In the shade of the blackest night, I wonder what I’m wrapped under that holds me tight and who thinks of me and who thinks of death, counting down from infinity between each breath. And what’s real to me is what I feel to be. Time’s only on my mind when I steal some sleep. It’s all planned, down to the span, led with the phantom hand, the First Man.
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6. |
East Cokehead
02:34
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The world’s still there when I close my eyes (no surprise) strung up with hopeful lies. As time goes by, I assume the guise of not knowing that rhymes are as useless as they are flowing. But still the words, like water, do crash taking the place of a dark past and bleak future. Sometimes life’s a nuisance. We need to get back to what we’re meant to do. But if hate is central, then why bother making small problems larger? Real pain doesn’t even exist. Self-destruction’s what you need to resist. Grab your weed and your fifth but, you still ain’t proud. The devil in your head is still shouting loud. Don’t let him shout you down. Count it down to the day you’ll be free with new ways to see that the world’s still on its axis. People are still smiling; content to act in roles they ain’t paid for, laying out laws just to break them. You couldn’t out out-fake them if you took lessons for a thousand years. I cried a thousand tears and then drank them, becoming my own inner sanctum. I’m stitched up like Frankenstein on the inside. There is really no great divide. There’s right and there’s wrong, so take your side. If you need a second go take a ride, clear your mind. You might think too much and in a moment lose touch with the world around. See the curve of the earth like a perfect frown. Looking for a purpose and what was found? Something to keep you busy and hold you down. Quite literally, you can carry that weight, physically, mentally. Rail against your fate at face value, faith will always beguile you. Shine in dark like medallions of sincerity cast in gold. It’s not true in your soul if you have to be told. Stretch far to catch your goals and turn problems into new homes, it ain’t going to solve them just to let go. Hold on tightly to what you know and what you’d like to. Another layer of fright to fight through to break out the cycle, you might pull yourself too far out to come back. The moon’s in the ocean and the sun’s black. But the world’s still spinning, reaching an end and beginning, beginning again and then ending.
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7. |
Masquerading
01:52
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Time times distance = lines in your midst define what exists and what’s delusion, like water at the edge of the sky when you’re cruising. Where it meets the road, you carry that load. You carry that weight not to profligate. The greatest use for man is to contemplate until the body’s lost in a vast conundrum. Holding a gun, but you still say you love them. I say that’s a contradiction. Do you want to be made of steel? The pain in your soul is what makes you real. Short of that, you’re a corpse that feels. Your heart is just fat; your brain is just wheels. I don’t want to think about the future, when nature is kept from the way we nurture. I don’t want to think about the past. It seems like tomorrow is coming too fast. Empty out your mind like a flask and swallow knowledge to be sure it lasts. There might be a class for this, but it’s an afterthought like an asterisk. I didn’t ask for this. Do you want to be made of bone? The goals you attain can be yours alone. Those without faith, cast in stone; you can become the love you’ve sown. I don’t want to think about the future, when your best friend might turn around and shoot you. I don’t want to think about the past. Looking back feels like wearing a mask.
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8. |
Interlude
01:05
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9. |
Wraith
02:26
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Recently deceased at least I’m in a ditch or two. Paranoid schizophrenics sipping on bitches brew. I’m on a mission, switch lanes until I’m getting through. Dry needle weave until you bleed, that’s that stick and move. Take a flick or two, something for posterity. But don’t confuse human intrigue for sincerity. I do it merrily, verily, all Amer. Apparel everything got me dripping like Dairy Queen. Very clean on the track, keep it sterile, g. Bugging out your eyes, yeah, I’m watching while you stare at me. Young hysteria, never will I carry you, might bury you in an undisclosed area. Top secret, learning every weakness because I run game like the Preakness, five after four after three it’s something that you shouldn’t be seen with; sparked with a light like Jesus, all up on the scene looking mean like Ceasar. Et tu, Brutus? Every great dream equals movement. Forget who you are like Buddhists. I’m ruthless when it comes to imagined scenarios. Let me float like a pageant. I got guns like Go Go Gadget. I might get dramatic and do a couple things that could be traumatic. But no telling, tears start welling; heaven for sinners is like hell when all you want to sell is that fire. Get caught slipping in a quagmire, you’ll be a sad sire. King me, like an old game of checkers. Save me the trouble and lay yourself on a stretcher. All you other rappers sweet like some nectar and I’m the resurrector, come to correct you. This right here is a motivational lecture, like get from round me before I get you. I’m chilling in the corners of walls like a specter. Rack your brain, dawg, who did you expect huh? I’m ghostin’ but not coast to coasting, may sound brag but not boasting; I be like bread because I’m toasted, red because I’m roasted, but out of all y’all I come the closest.
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10. |
Truth Of Peace
02:40
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An acquaintance burned by lust, the young graceless. With great patience, it became love. After much time and space, it turned to hatred. We slowly gave up on sacred trust. Yearning for the first days of newness when depths of care were yet to be proven, when every small breath felt like a movement, now you’re asking: “How could you do this? How could you think that it’s all cool?” “When we play our roles, we both look like fools.” We’re tools in a box that should stay locked, counting down to the end like millennium clocks. Of words exchanged, we both took stock to use like sheers on a faultless flock. But the fault is mine, so I take the blame. I take dope to brain for the aches and pains. I starved for you and I’m part of you, but we've got to do something that’s hard to do because the soul’s well-being is cardinal. Everything else gets charged in full. We can’t stop it once it starts to pull. We become ourselves on expectant shelves and get banished to our respective hells. Acting like our walls had not fallen. Great temptress of emptiness, for centuries you've tempted us. Entered us, a centerpiece; your expectations meant for me. A piece of you and a piece of me, we forgot that the heart is a piece of meat filled up with the wistful passions of mystic actions yet to be. A set scene. I felt the force that led from me and reached out to you, connecting our dreams. We tried to vary the themes, but we had to wake. Like an old bridge, we had to break under pressure of life. It’s a lesson in right and how wrong isn't far from the path that’s bright. It’s not just your sight, it’s a whole other sense that springs from the chest and outlives the rest. Out-hears, out-feels, a human keel that separates what you know and what you think is real. I didn't think to steal away these moments. Why does hoping you’re here seem like an onus? “Who owns us?” “No one, we are free from each other and our thoughts that smother.” The touch beneath is a clutch for peace, but really this is just too much for me. The past is dead and the future’s gone, like an un-spun yarn or a false alarm. I finally see how false we are to the ones we say we love. There is no “us.”
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11. |
From The Garden
02:05
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Flashback to an earlier age when confusion and loss didn't beget rage and every day was a page in adventure books without hooks or the chains of indentured. All pain was sequestered, amorphous and challenges ran most natural of courses. Of course it’s the damage of time that climbs on your mind and stomps gray matter into brine. Nothing was clearly defined and for that more beautiful. Only to God did you feel so dutiful. Pushed back like cuticle, negative thoughts were gathered up in a crucible and locked away until a day deemed suitable, when the truth of life became indisputable. After that, no going back to the usual; any naiveté was inexcusable. Soul awakened. Goals for the taking; every foundation was shaken. The knowledge was latent until we realized we were naked- how could we be so vacant? And now filled with mysteries, distilled, and poured over hearts unskilled, time to build and rebuild, mental landscape tilled with the fruits of the wicked and gruesome. Narrow youth worldviews loosened. The hurt and the pleasure no longer contrasted. If you learn one, then they both are mastered. And ever after, the answer is clear. No need to look back when you’re fully present here.
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12. |
Seventh Day
03:19
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Coming up from the depths…down to my feet, up to my neck; what affects you deepest you would never expect. Recollect the past that never was or will. It takes guts to die. It takes blood to kill. More than real, it’s something out of time. A way to check yourself when you doubt your mind, disconnect your spine and walk amongst the spirits. Those not meant to know will still fear it. Enter the clearing free from your feelings. Leave memories unreeling. Understand that the sky is a ceiling hiding another high. That’s why you can’t trust the other guy. Looking for a reason to start treason, hearts are bleeding as darkness feeds in to thoughts of harm that caught you off guard. Forgetting about it seems twice as hard. Realize that it’s nice to be where we are, safe or not, it’s a place to rot six feet while the beat makes speakers knock. The bells of hell tell where I dwell. Give my soul, I would give my soul, where once there was, now carved a hole. Thrown down within everything you know. Outside the light we can finally grow. Do you know what shame is? Are you brainless? Spending ages feeling cheap and aimless, I don’t think you know the kind of game this is. None get in on it, you’re all dismissed. I wonder who will take the fall for this. I’m about through with the artifice. Tricks get ripped like cartilage. Losing yourself is the hardest win. Pardon the mystic call to arms, but when it gets down to it, we are all disarmed. Misinformed, with our heads ajar, the hate in our hearts is a love bizarre. Who we are is bottom feeders. No one smart would ever call us leaders. Somehow found that the ground is strong. Stay low even though we ain't around for long. Bound to fight to stay out the light, down in a well where we feel alright. Check the date, it ain't 1970, still thinking that we’ll rise eventually.
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13. |
New Altruism
01:10
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I absolve you. I mean all of you hung up on what you were called to do. It’s all falling through like some water, becoming someone else like a father. It’s not easily solved. It’s the hardest thing to try to take charge of who you are. A dead star or an open flame, a broken name, either way hope is shame. In a package safe for masses but the connotation’s massive. The days of plastic haphazard passion’s gone. The past comes after the epilogue. Getting on around dawn, the time it takes to burn off will ensure the loss of all pure and exhaustive Gods. You learn it’s yourself with whom you’re at odds.
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14. |
The Human Island Part V
03:09
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Understand I’m still human. I’ve done my fair share of assuming and made quick judgments when darkness was looming. I shut out the sun when the flowers was blooming and sought out my old, buried fears and exhumed them. I realized why I entombed them in the first place and very soon had to face them in the worst way. I always felt like my birthday was a cursed day and never felt any kinship with my birthplace. I ain’t from around here I won’t be here long, just stopped by to play a few songs and upright a few wrongs or at least try to lift them. There’s nothing left to rebel against, even a system. All the better to embrace the void, make some noise and hope it translates to joy for somebody on the other side. Try to nullify harsh thoughts that cloud the mind’s sky. You and I are not so distant. In fact, I could see you in an instant. I guess it’s not the same as in the pictures, but it wouldn’t be true to say that I miss you. Stonehearted, the best of us have departed. It seems that the end’s just started. Tail’s been caught in the teeth like the greedy snake eating through cycles to reincarnate. Why do I feel ensnared by the things I care about? Filling me up like air turned toxic, everything I ever took stock in turned out false like a shallow pulse. My shadow’s lost like I wasn’t ever there. Just because you can’t grin doesn’t mean you can’t bear. Ask yourself over again while you’re scared. Struggle transforms only when it’s shared. I’m beaten but not beaten down. I hold my breath when the graveyard comes around. I know that the moon is above me now. Not just a sky, the mind also has a ground.
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J Alfred Prufrock Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
contact: cruelestapril@gmail.com
***I have no formal relation to Thomas Stearns***
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