Falou Com o Vento, Pt. 1
The lost art of being human is the show of love
Like Monet and Van Gogh
But a cut above
See I'm Pollock with the words and a fisted glove
Held just right above the olive branch and the dove
With wings clipped and beak chipped from the glass cage and shit
It's like the whole world's a zoo
Where everybody watch screens and chant you don't you
While the cellies in yo body and yo bullshittin' hobbies need thry vitamins too
(And vicodin don't count)
Still the Feds Orwelli to the bellies of American youth
The voting booth be the edge of the tip of the tooth
See the mouth so wide we split pride while it swallows the truth
We split pride while it swallows the truth, we split pride while it swallows the truth
Catch thermals with the feathers on the dermal on my soul
Hit the bowl of the face of a cliff
And go to space for a bit
And dream back all the land that we stole
From the forest of the rain to the south-est of poles
We burn the darkest of coals
And pipeline the earth's blood
Dateline come on at nine when our planet gives up
We give the biggest of shrugs
'Til its deep impact and we praying to the gods that none of us love
So lace up big fella
And watch them pockets
Use people for they profits
Like ain't you from the tropics? (Ain't you from the tropics?)
They stories for our topics
My nigga peep the optics
My nigga peep the optics, my nigga peep the optics, my nigga peep the optics
But them rose tinted glasses fitted mighty nice
Ain't no fog up in them shits if your skin tone light
While you sun beneath the sun til that skin tone right
We pray to make it through the night if our fate is right
Make it through the night if our fate is right, make it through the night if our fate is right
Make it through the night, make it through the night
Writer/s: Lance Washington
