någonting typ något sånt

någonting typ något sånt

oh shit, really, oh shit
I touch the beat and I burn my hands from the crusts
of this beat, too much too feel, too many
books to read, too school me, takes to many
ignorant people too fool me, too many
all depending, on how long time the last man
in the desert - has to keep waiting, the mad man
the crazy, the genious who raped me with his bare hands
by only saying, the only saying that wouldnt praise me
and I'm not lazy, I just build a castle of clouds
of letters taken only from the sound of my mouth
and the vocals, built the walls soley so they surround
me with translation, fuck-it me with a whole generation
of kids who look up to your waist-line only in hesitation
for motivation, to face time, and face my, face in conversation
to masturbate to the dying of your own population

the build-up - look at it
what took 19 years to build, is fabric
bought - for a dollar-99 at your local
liquour store - I stripped of my clothes
and crawled up the floors, staring scepticly
at the elevator, the only way to rea-
lize I'm just a waitor, I'll build up
I'm an architect, I choose which cup to fill up
and what ship to wreck, what wreck to ship
what a way to skip, all that mattered for the rest of us
don't exclude myself from a word that never took my
syllables out of the sentences, I got the sentences
and got sent to save the mental heath, instead of careing
the incompetent defensivness, of the expensivness
of the cloths I'm wearing, the in-coherent hearing wont stop
the fear in me leaves everyone behind n me not giving a fuck


äh-- fick liksom för mig att lägga upp något