Post by Vallus on Jan 17, 2006 2:57:22 GMT
I been feelin puttin some more work in.....
Read this slow....more of a short novel....
...On a slow B.I.G. Instrumental.
.Enjoy....
There lays a spot that's past a premise,
It's abstract in image
Upon Atlas's back it's draft was imprinted
Cast down from the Lord wrapped in his wisdom
Above was fire entrapped in rythmns, mad & twistin
Below the deepest oceans convulting synapsed in liquid
Between lies a passionate feelin,
Where all the men n women r past the stealin
The blackened kneelins, lying, spying
Dying, denying, & the times inclined to crack n dealing,
It's cut out the phony masses of pilgrims,
Past the lucklaster finish then the grass is yielded.......
The enclave is sealed off from hatred,
There's no denyin that the spot is sacred
Every1 sets their aims to make it
..........One day, and not to the plot adjacent
Holdin a close watch is Satan, but this place it's no jakes, no cases
No faces for them to probate or to take what their makin
Defensively yet gently fenced in, this den calls for no aggravation
Fields filled with people that's past on & patients
People who died from accidents or while ridin the pavement
Soldiers who died overseas on Iraqi bases, no masks on for hatred
A whole galaxy with no fads & fags & no badges, it's so amazing.....
No-one's usin their churches for fronts,
No makin moves on no youths to tryin touch
No cars so theres no art in ridin dubs
Plenty sparkin cuz it's so many here who liked to thug
Theres always a supply of love, people cry n hug
But without sad reminitions of before they died to dust
No positions or placements given,
It's a physical haven's vision
No ones crippled to their own makeshift prison's
The lake will glisten when the sun's rays transcend it
Days become years become centuries replayin traditions
For infinity these entities trangressions n sins forgiven
Visions of violence and pain in all types imprisoned
No longer are the faces in this place tainted by Satans gimmicks
Read this slow....more of a short novel....
...On a slow B.I.G. Instrumental.
.Enjoy....
There lays a spot that's past a premise,
It's abstract in image
Upon Atlas's back it's draft was imprinted
Cast down from the Lord wrapped in his wisdom
Above was fire entrapped in rythmns, mad & twistin
Below the deepest oceans convulting synapsed in liquid
Between lies a passionate feelin,
Where all the men n women r past the stealin
The blackened kneelins, lying, spying
Dying, denying, & the times inclined to crack n dealing,
It's cut out the phony masses of pilgrims,
Past the lucklaster finish then the grass is yielded.......
The enclave is sealed off from hatred,
There's no denyin that the spot is sacred
Every1 sets their aims to make it
..........One day, and not to the plot adjacent
Holdin a close watch is Satan, but this place it's no jakes, no cases
No faces for them to probate or to take what their makin
Defensively yet gently fenced in, this den calls for no aggravation
Fields filled with people that's past on & patients
People who died from accidents or while ridin the pavement
Soldiers who died overseas on Iraqi bases, no masks on for hatred
A whole galaxy with no fads & fags & no badges, it's so amazing.....
No-one's usin their churches for fronts,
No makin moves on no youths to tryin touch
No cars so theres no art in ridin dubs
Plenty sparkin cuz it's so many here who liked to thug
Theres always a supply of love, people cry n hug
But without sad reminitions of before they died to dust
No positions or placements given,
It's a physical haven's vision
No ones crippled to their own makeshift prison's
The lake will glisten when the sun's rays transcend it
Days become years become centuries replayin traditions
For infinity these entities trangressions n sins forgiven
Visions of violence and pain in all types imprisoned
No longer are the faces in this place tainted by Satans gimmicks
