1. |
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Deconstruction of the valley that I’ve used my wits to lay by,
Where there’re now lay-bys,
I need to stay high…
The urban vortex that commits these trees to grey skies
Give me the same vibe
As I watch the days fly.
Books on peace of mind ain’t doing much to save mine
- I need a god! -
Yep, that might save time!
But the individual is the most sovereign of gods
But all I hear is who I’m with
And where I’m from;
The good guys made a crucifix for if they think you’re wrong
But a good guy can be someone
Who just brings the loudest crowd along…
But nature refines the old device…
The conscience power to modify…
A basic instinct to colonize…
But wise to seal the cracks that cause divide…
We build our homes where the devil hides…
So forgive the nature the saints despise…
If living is to scrape by…
And there are rules to play by…
I must concede my maid’s eye…
Is the master she forbade lies…
And if good is hard to come by…
Then why’s there beauty in a sunrise?…
And if failure’s not for good guys…
Then why do prophets never comply?…
I suppose this deep inside the city
It’s not hard to feel alone.
The carousel of ancient clock work
Will wear away your bones.
But isn’t that just home?…
But isn’t that just home?…
But isn’t that just home?…
But isn’t that just home?…
I could give birth on this earth to an empty vessel,
Watch passive light pass by
and blink as the spectrum wrestles…
…or remember why this is special…
…while my idle hands fight the devil…
I could be a solider in a chess war…
A nationless soul in an airport …
A loner who will always need that last score…
A lover with no lover in the arms of an escort…
God said have a play…
Have a play at this old game…
It’s a reason,
It’s a road you go all the way down.
Like the seasons,
It’s a wave you wade your way in and out.
You may be bleeding,
But all your pleading does is wear you out.
You’ve got the feeling
That what you’re feeding on is the cause of doubt.
… The cause of doubt…
X8
To have walked this far is incredible in any kinda way.
To confine our ID to prioritise putting goodness on display.
But defining ‘good’ is the thing that needs to be understood
For our nature to sustain…
And we have to survive to monetize the universe high-way…
…That’s a reason to have faith!…
X8
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2. |
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Each season tries my patience,
It’s the winter’s vote tomorrow.
But this throne’s a game of nations,
Which have summer’s past to borrow.
Clues past now meet rejection -
New gods and new complexions.
Soundbites’ve replaced dissection…
… And they say blind hate’s for our protection…
… Maybe Kanye West is insane…
But maybe he’s not always wrong…
But if you wanna play it safe
And keep out of the view of the monster,
It’s best to just play along…
I recall the Soviet Union,
When a thug took the wheel in the confusion.
The crowd lashed out - misread Rasputin.
Now the chaos is reigned in by the one called Putin.
… A man, you could say,
Who likes to play god.
And if you wanna play it safe over there,
I guess It’s best to just play along…
I hear talk of revolution
Between the memes and the noise pollution.
Beneath the cracks of fact confusion
The serf’s grown fat on restitution.
… And even if you’re not hungry anymore
They want you to play along.
And even if you eat only when you really need to,
They want you play along…
If a fool can paint your landscape
It’s not the paint that you should question.
It’s his views the strokes which mention
Dissolution spewed in all directions…
But we all take the painter’s lesson,
But take her heed at our discretion…
As Earth’s leaves wilt beneath heat depression,
Every man knows that it’s rude not to hide an erection…
… But he does deserve an intervention
When he tries to play god.
So, the question isn’t the erection…
It’s “Why do people try to play god?”…
I ain’t sold my soul, so they stole my image -
The story and the vibe in a hack job scrimmage.
But I’m an ant in this game, so only God can witness
That even in Ondara one still gets shifted…
… But if you find that you are weak,
Then you must become strong…
But if your strength unshackles hatred in yourself and others,
Then your strength is wrong…
Maybe you treat hate with kindness
And an empath’s eye…
Man can’t hate when at its’ wisest,
The two worlds don’t comply…
… So maybe you should practice forgiveness
If you want others to play along…
Or maybe you should hide the seed that grew the apple
If you want to play god…
Just go ahead and ignore the seed that grew the apple
If you really have to play god…
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3. |
Thinking of Emiley
01:44
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I’m one bad day from going crazy,
And the world feels much the same…
But fuck the world, I miss my lady…
…But she is far away…
...And the Joker’s not my card anyway…
So, i’ll just knuckle down,
And try to make her proud,
‘Cause I want her to stick around…
…And make up for the mistakes I’ve made…
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4. |
Dear Jessica Rabbit
04:45
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I came your way for some respite,
I thought that you may need some respite too…
I didn’t expect to be accused of viewing you
The same way as a prostitute…
Just because I like the way you move…
And the way your dress sticks to the form of you…
And you make a shape on which I could chew…
Don’t mishear my terms against your foresight
As a blight of lust as only lust undue,
Your brain and bust both hold the frame I view.
The chance of love held in the contract
Above the dance that serves to contact you
Is as slim as all such things as beautiful…
But you say we can’t be lovers and friends too…
Well, let’s just not meet then if that’s all I am to you…
I know you find my body useful,
As long as you’re using me let me be of use to you…
Yes, you appease the need for me to feel at ease,
And I am more than pleased to service you.
(I’ve gone down on you, now I think I’m due)
I’ve gone down now, I think I’m due…
I’ve gone down now, I think I’m due…
There’s no need to be rude…
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5. |
Things Ain't Changed
05:02
|
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In the context of knowing
The whims in the vortex of growing pains,
The gains seem larger
The more knowledge you obtain…
But that changes the stage,
Not the crude realms of the actor’s brain…
Things ain’t changed,
The play’s the same,
And you just have to play your part.
To live life’s the aim,
In a decent way,
But decent ain’t always
where you start.
It isn’t age, it’s neglection
When intersectionality turns to rage,
The infection that seems to
Consolidate every age…
Like re-reading the same page
About a different complextion…
… And how position rules the day -
… and how separation ain’t the way -
But bonding takes lot of affection…
Things ain’t changed,
‘Cept which master reigns,
And a master has you play your part.
It’s all the same
When you strip away
The progress that dictates
where you start.
Through the subsequent notions
Of what it really means to turn a page
Without gauging the sincerity of your disdain
For the indifferent way status is obtained,
but to be alive is to play the game…
The players change
But the rules remain,
So maybe you should play your part.
And if my Will’s my bane,
From which I can ascertain,
Then maybe I should make a start.
Things ain’t changed,
‘Cept which master reigns,
And a master will have you play your part.
To live life’s the aim,
In a decent way,
But decent ain’t always
Where you start.
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6. |
The Cage
07:51
|
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I’ve been many things so far in my life but a chooser,
Choices made for me tend to beget my abuser,
In the form of a baked eyed passive cruiser
Who avoids the eyes, at all costs, with his Zarathrustra.
You spend enough time alone, a glance’ll cauterise your soul -
- turn your heart to stone - I feel it in my bones -
Take the reigns or fall in the unknown -
Poor as fuck but still trying to sell the fallacy I own - uh -
But solitude is where those callus seeds are grown, huh?
And they consume light from your wounds that are sewn shut.
...If I see this light I’ll keep it for my own,
Besides the space in my eye for the apple that I know -
And I don’t mean the brands that capitalise your soul…
I could have a home with the money that I’ve blown…
The food stops coming when your back goes,
That means the blacksmith can’t relax though -
I milk my cow to keep the cheese but I’m ‘lactose (intolerant)’
Capitalism’s on its’ knees telling math jokes
While the anarchist pushes for change but can’t adapt though…
It’s a human old game
To suffer, and rebuff, til the Ubermensch reins (read up)
You’re playing vanity’s game
If you think the individual’s too sacred to heed what our tapestry’s saying -
Move out of apathy’s way -
They say that group think’s bad
but I’m always reminded that I’m black though.
The pattern extends through the micro and the macro -
Falling through the craft of gravity’s path seems very natural.
As our star does backstrokes through space-time
We’re seeing race wars rage live on face-time -
And this could be positive - ugly or not -
Magnified media - live! - focused on a spot -
Pulling the mass eye to it to gaze upon it as God,
Which raises the fear in it, which will encourage men to stop.
Ignorance is bliss - being vulnerable is not -
Knowledge equals suffering - but that’s down to the devil’s lot -
Profit could be war - Power could be peace -
Money talks but you’re the one who decides how well it speaks.
As our scope gets wider, our hopes get higher
For creating that a world that a good god might desire
...It really feels like we’re supposed to…
But the devil rides the back of all the new ideas that we’re exposed to -
That’s why knowledge becomes a bomb -
A fact becomes a threat -
A Right becomes a wrong -
Any nuance in an argument or insult is gone -
In a black or white world you’re either holy or you’re scum.
This reminds me of the past, before McCarthyism,
When Abraham asked God how many good men he’d kill
Just to get his point across…
It should be a clue that you’re on the wrong side
If you’re willing to destroy lives for the dogma
you’ve been anointed on…
‘Cause rationality’s regularly been outclassed by madness…
…The shit makes me anxious…
...When information’s free - And people can be seen -
And everyone can be heard anonymously,
Logic does decree that wisdom atrophies
As chaos takes the mainstage as no one intercedes.
For men this could just be a reflection of his greed -
A new type of tribal warfare of the egos that it feeds.
We could let it be - but war would supersede,
And that would be a seed to the hatred it would breed…
Opened up a can of worms of sex in the sixties,
Now everyone’s a brand of sex
- but the latter part of the twenty-teens is like the fifties -
- I grew up on “Sex and the City”,
So I say lets get down to the nitty gritty
- what’s a euphemism really?
She shrugs, as masculinity lugs his own madness for her to heal
‘Cause femininity’s Love
- And it always seems like Love is enough
But the great stage of unity comes
‘Cause of our fear of what comes from above.
Meanwhile below, while the mother’s custodian’s stray,
Just log into instagram to see that everyone’s Dorian Grey,
And trying to separate fact from fiction
Without negating the facts in fiction,
The way that historians play…
All of which could amount to the sum of a glorious way...
Which we witness day by day.
…If I see this day - it’s mine to be my own -
Besides the seat in my eye for the apple that I know
(Fair winds blow)
And I could mean the lies that advertise your phone,
Quarantine your mind and occupy your dome.
(Fair winds blow)
The seasons resume with no mind to pay
To the leaves it will outrun…
(Fair winds blow)
For this reason some visions are bound to frey,
And get lost in the outcome…
(Fair winds blow)
It could drive you crazy…
It could drive you crazy…
It could drive you crazy…
It could drive you crazy…
So I’m told I’ve got friends in high places
- my manager wants them to sell my Tees -
Little does he know that they just look down on me
- one of my mothers is on kemo and I have no self esteem
And I’m always letting my nightmares
prevent me fulfilling my fantasies.
Random or not, life goes shambles a lot,
Where you gonna look when the light goes?
Land in a spot…
How you gonna know what the night knows?
Reach for a thought…
You could blame God if you can’t, but are they your hands or not?
In my head i’ve got a screaming clot,
Who grabs me seething by the scruff of the neck
- “Are you a man or not?! -
“You can’t afford to leave, what you paying for a band for?
“Half way to old age, still slave to a landlord!”
- I could be pure but I ain’t earning that -
The clever pastors fry days for the lord, and I ain’t Bernie Mac.
I break my back to hand in my thesis
But all I get back is faeces
- the Tom Hobbes in me hits the blunt like “Fuck my species!”
- Can’t let things be, too stressed out…
Can’t concentrate enough to read, but that’s on me…
- But whatever will be will be - And fate will sort the rest out.
... If I see this night, I’m leaving it alone…
Besides, I’ve space in my eye for the apple that I know.
But I don’t like the tone these four corners have bestowed…
I can’t get out the cage, in which I have been thrown.
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7. |
||||
As I get older ideals fade away,
Doubts get bolder, my fears learn to stray -
The stars lose meaning, future condenses past -
Yet, I want for nothing, in the age of glass.
The vetted mason sub-sequential dreams
Primes the mover, born to hatch the scheme.
The seeds he's set defect as they learn the dance,
But there is no evil in the age of glass.
A planet cascades through times of seamless glue
A mirthless quasar - the rock, the beast, and you -
From deft perspective, all moves like fields of grass,
‘Cause time’s still solid in the age of glass.
You forgo changes at the haste of your demise -
The quantum switchblade made of the gods’ reprise -
but with which logic sculptures a harsh but ethic heart,
And there are always winners in the age of glass.
The bull moves slowly, the seamstress tames her class -
The fractured touchstone, the blink of backlogged tasks -
The symbiotics go kaleidoscopic -
Ideas turn myopic in the age of glass.
As years get shorter I see a wiser way,
Old men have oceans, as humans have their fields of days.
Our wealth comes chiefly on how we choose to last -
Cause there are no riches in the age of glass
In the age of glass
In the age of glass
In the age of glass
In the age of glass
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L.A. Salami UK
Lookman Adekunle Salami - ‘L.A. Salami’ - is a rare breed of musician that the world has been craving since the height of storytelling legends like Joni Mitchell, Paul Simon and Neil Young. Not quite folk, not quite indy, not quite common and certainly not boring, L.A. Salami’s lyricism and voice are hypnotic. ... more
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