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"My God!"
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11. Death
12. Dreamscape
13. Deutschrock! (feat. Meesh)
14. Jet
15. A Mother's Curse
16. SUN
17. My God!
18. Feel It!
19. Have Faith!
10. Godbody!
11. Life Is Work
12. Music
13. Radio
14. CAITLINagain
Rocking in the Face of Danger
16. Today's the Day I Die
17. We'll Be Alright
A video playlist of me interpreting "My God!" lyrics into American Sign Language.

1. Death

Only ever two steps behind, in step with Time; his breath on your spine.
His sickle's shine blinding, casting a crescent-shaped shadow over your sunny meadow.
Don't allow today to go to your head bro, sis. Notice! Escape from His fate's hopeless!
Envelop yourself in the now, trust me, s'the only relief possible to assuage the grief of your fossilized state.
Thanatos is hostile to your best-laid plots... excepting, of course, the one that holds your headstone (ha-ha.)
Your headboard at night saturated with your life's dreams.
Your wife screams; night screens the dismal outcome of your pipe dreams.
Time takes flight, alights on your corpse with bone-white fiends; minions doing Death's bidding.
All Life's the lord's dominion. Your indignation the least important of your opinions, for there's just no winning.
The underpinning of human urgency's emergencies never-ending.
Sending souls to the cosmos, to add to the constellations. Jupiter and Venus, pleasantly delighted by your contribution; another pinprick of light too faint to reach mother Gaia; a beacon's keening signal, set adrift in the lonesome blackness.
You ask, "Does the fact of this subtract from life's luster?"
"Alack," I ask, "is joy of life enhanced or hurt by lack of bluster?"
Attacks we must muster in the face of the facts of finitude.
"Today's the Day I Die" helped I to find a fine attitude, dude.
Consider Hamlet holding your skull, an open bowl, full to overflowing with opiated hope with no hope of control.
Feel the pull of the undertow as under we must go the toe of mother Hera and father Zeus, for there's just no use.
As balls of clay we were made to survive only a day + a night; 'ts'only right. Strive to survive this lonely fight.
Dusty bones rattle as we are called like cattle to the slaughter.
Come son, mother, father and daughter and all others; all brothers + sisters in this destiny.
Death's to be our final meeting-place.
Greeting our face in the mirror's a rictus sneer; depicted as fear by the cowardly.
Hourly returned to our Creator, encircling all like the Equator.
Well, are we humans, or mice like Die Flater caught in an all-consuming fire?
We're all assuming desire's a driving force but, of course, that's the cart before the horse.
Departing for the far coast of Styx, preferring a dip in Lethe to escape the effects of human happenings.
Covering over our eyes like Egyptian coins and a death mask.
In Death's grasp, enwrapped in gauze; guts flushed with formaldehyde.
Eyelids sewn shut, no more the light of skies. No... now, the only shining's the ever after.
Hope to Heaven your soul's not trapped like a balloon in the rafters.
Metempsychosis turns this most unfortunate prognosis/turn of events into a prevention of your ascension to the Holy Ghost. It's essentially an opportunity to re-do your sloppy handiwork, jerk...

2. Dreamscape

"Welcome, my son, enter. Don't bother closing the door; take a seat, please.
Tell us something about yourself to aid your placement + admission."
I couldn't listen, focusing on dark leather chambers; paneling was velvet.
Melting into the moment, I feel I'm behind the wheel of an airplane/automobile; it feels magical.
Coasting over landscapes never before imagined; a pageantry of color, engineering tech and wizardry.
In the distance there's a mountain, which I'm mountin'; there's a cabin there. Honey-dip's waiting for me.
The girl's a fountain of ebullient energy; body-type and chemistry are just what I need.
She's got a pipe of weed she's handing me. Demanding we fuck, but first I must undress, she detects I'm stressed.
I'm laid on her desk. Surrender to her caress. Look over my shoulder to inspect and homegirl's face is a mess:
Mainly the bad dude from Roger Rabbit, plus a nun's habit, plus Lorena Bobbit.
Screaming at me, "Your cock is mine!"
Somehow I climb out, behead the witch like Medusa.
Use the body as a canoe to discover something new. It's called the 24th dimension.
Mention's made of me in NYT; AP picks it up, and now my 'ish is blown up.
I'm known worldwide, but word gets out how I'm a nerd and a lout.
A disgrace to my profession and now a turd with no clout.
Stripped of my credentials, left to fend for myself in a torrential downpour in Lahore; so far from home.
A nomad, yet all alone. I'm calling on the phone. Nobody's home; machine after machine sending cold shoulders.
I'm holding over in a cave 'til angels descend, sending encouraging messages: I'm a god among men.
That's why the populace despised me: had to be dark skies before I could rise to be the salvation of every man, woman + child in every nation.
"Whoa! That's wild," I think as I sink into the attire due a prophet of my station. Now, I'm due to retire...

3. Deutschrock! (feat. Meesh)

Lyrics are in German. Please contact me if you can transcribe them into English.

4. Jet

Lieutenant Polemos, reporting for duty, sir; ready to rid all the world of its scum.
I'm ready to come on their faces with fire, sir. Ready to give 'em the love of my gun.
It's been a long time since I've been activated -- a long time ago since I worked for the team --
Although it feels only like yesterday since I climbed into the cockpit and made the kids scream.
I understand, sir, that the price of vigilance eternal freedom to do as we please is.
That's why we can't let that evil dictator in far-away lands simply do as he pleases.
He must understand that the lease of his land only comes with the grace of his global host.
And if he demands that he have a free hand, he must understand that he's totally toast!
I've got him in sights, sir, ready to fire! Ready to take out both him + his kin!
I'll teach him that plotting to take out our country + all of its people's a cardinal sin.
Excuse me, sir, I know it's wrong of me to opine openly on the excuses for war; I don't mean to step outside boundaries of duty into P.R., that's what our government's for!
It's just that I'm overly joyed that there's finally someone in office a man can respect.
A man of integrity, wisdom + courage; a man who will give our foes Hell and not Heck.
I'm glad that my job is to shut up + fire! I'm glad that my job's not to question, but kill!
As far as concerns me, sir, tell our Chief Officer this soldier's ready to fire at his will!
I'm ready to drop all my... I'm ready to drop all my bombs...
I'm ready to drop all my bombs on these heathens and blast 'em back to the Stone Age whence they came the last time we needed a strategic ally in this sector of our great worldwide game!
Sadly, as always, we know that, despite high precision, there will be some innocent deaths.
But, that is the price that the world must pay for us to protect our compounding interests.
I'll try my best! I'll try my best! Hooray! Yippee! I'm trying my best!

5. A Mother's Curse

This is for the men who can't remember when they were little babies, tiny + helpless.
When their mothers helped them, loving + selfless, despite the fact they were ugly + blotchy.
This is for the men who decide to act cocky.
Who think their might makes the time right to fight, out of no reason other than spite and delight in the fright of the weak + slight.
Let me speak, tonight. Lord, hear me right!
Tonight's the night these men'll feel fear + fright, 'cause they know not right's their path but they've not got the sight enough to avert the bloodbath.
Inside wrong sounds strong like a gong + the song says, "Life is much more fair than it seems + all that tears will repair like seams + nightmares will replace the dreams of those who put man before human beings."
May the screams of the child that died in my arms haunt you! Lord, make my curse come true!

6. SUN

The sun comes up; the son's coming up.
The sun comes up; the son's coming up.
The sun comes up; the son's coming up.

On that darkest night of the darkest day of my entire life I arose over the marshes + started a new one.
Celebrate the new sun; I do, I did, cause that's who I'm, kid.
Oh, you don't like new Grammar? That's too bad for your grandma.
She getting touched by the sun, as well grandson, daughter, father.
So don't bother with a fight, like only coming out at night like a vampire.
I'll hire a van, and tour these lands!

The sun comes up; the son's coming up.

Yo, I'm coming to your city, coming straight to your face!
Coming up past your waist, you begin to get nervous like a Pennsylvanian miner.
But, never mind. You'll find your mind + spine in Your God's due time, I suppose, tho only you knows.
Just like only I knows why my flow's so sickly: it's the God's malaise.
Friends + family caught me standing front of speakers for days.
I'm in a daze; I'm crazed!

The sun comes up; the son's coming up.
The sun comes up --

But, moreover, I'm amazed at the ways My God's turned my life from charade to parade by granting me self-knowledge: last thing I learned in college.
They handed me my diploma and I went home a while ago.
Now I'm ready to leave again; Oklahoma, here I come.
Anywhere in the country, could do this for fun, son.
Cause I bounce my signal global off the sun for no funds, so y'all can have mo' fun.
These record execs are dum-dums. They don't understand yet they're done-done!
Let's laugh and watch 'em burn.

The sun comes up; the son's coming up.

Yo, the sun done came up, yet y'all are still snoozing, that's why y'all are still losing, in my opinion.
Always choosing to wait to self-immolate. Imitating dead weight. Better to get your head straight...

7. My God!

Born an agnostic to an atheist mom; dad was an Easter-Christmas Christian.
Never liked listenin' to those kids who's dissin'.
Sayin' I's going to Hell. Shit, that's my mission, now!
Now, listen how this bitch-born cow starts proselytizing me + my bro while babysittin'.
"Now, babies, listen...," she started plantin' seeds about the evil outcome of our evil deeds.
"You're gonna go to Hell."
"Yeah, we heard that one."
"But, you ain't heard this one...," bitch started having mad fun describing in the most egregious detail about the things Demons do to kids who go to Hell.
At the age of 5, I didn't wanna be alive no more.
Yo, my eyes was opened wide to the fact that this life connotes an after-life.
Forcing a choice, make you hope for half a life.
To choose + commit like a boy'll ask a wife.
Winning or losing? No control, so pass the dice.
I toss 'em down the deepest, darkest well which I can find, and try and pay 'em no mind.
But I find as soon as I turn, they chill my spine; able to exert control at a distance by design.
This game defines our plane of existence, whether or not we choose to witness.
Braniac or witless, we're on the shit-list of our Common Creator, Its unwitting mistress.
Getting fucked in the ass in this pass/fail class we call "Life", with no chance for extra-credit.
I didn't used to get it, in fact found it pathetic, that these kids'd try + act so clean like Ayyurvedic.
But now, watch me sweat it. I can't afford to let it get away from me, 'cause this could be the last day for me!
I can't believe I hope you'll pray for me! Just like I pray for you, 'cause this is all we can do.
Forced to decide which of these lies is true. And they disguise it, too, these proponents with their motives.
Eyes shine bright with fervor like two votives. Railroading non-believers like locomotives.
Not to increase the peace, but more their quotas of attendance, 'cause the penance pays the tithe.
10% of the rest of y'all lives, and I've...

Yo, I'm not even trying to go there, man. There's good + bad people in religion, just like everything else.
I guess... what I'm trying to say is...

Oh, well, I guess it would be nice if I could touch Godbody,
'Cause I know not everybody can touch the body that's true.
Oh, but I gotta think twice before I give my faith away.
Can't help but think of yesterday, and all these dudes who would tie me down to an orthodox rule...

My God! You gotta get into this... My God! I gotta realize It's this...
My God! It's gotta be close to me, makin' the most of me. Hopefully doin' what I'm s'posed to be...
My God! I gotta get into this... My God! You gotta realize It's this...
My God! I never can lose since I never can prove what I know couldn't ever be true...

"So, what is 'My God'?," the attentive ask. My God is mine in the first + last.
A relationship which could not be verified even if I desired, no matter how I tried. Peace!...

8. Feel It!

Yo, I gotta take my own advice in regards to this song,
'Cause I been thinking 'bout the way to start this shit for too long.
I gotta let it go... let myself flow... slow + low, just like this tempo...
Artistic limbs limber than a limbo dancer's; enhanced by many years, a life-long career.
There's knowledge in this body they don't teach in no school!
As much as it's a science of the use of a tool, in its essence it transcends the rational mind,
L ike when I'm tryin'a find God and It's so hard to find, 'cause I'm trying so hard I end up losing my cool.
Be better off acting the fool in more ways, more often, 'cause I get a lot closer when the cynicism softens;
Sarcasm + skepticism I stop getting off on. Life is not a digital switch; merely the off/on.
Successful as our science has been, it's not the end-all, be-all of we-all, not even by half.
Until we understand the path we're on, we're going nowhere; know no God, and I can know no care.

Now, since the days of the time before humans could rhyme, until the very first thought formed on the very first mind, I think the average person would say we're doing just fine, and it's fine, from time to time, to be reminded to feel it! Feel it! Feel it! Feel it! Feel it!

Yo, I can feel it in my work, feel it in my life. I will feel it in my children, feel it in my wife.
I can feel it in each thought -- paradox! -- action.
I can feel it in the gray as easily as the black + white, right + wrong, day + night. Front to back, left to right.
Left to my own devices, and by my own lights, I'll usually find the path that is right + alright when I learn to stop fighting the world of Daimones. Given to me to keep me from feeling lonely.
Blessed am I to be the one + only, so far as I know, to know My God as a homie.

Since the days of the time before humans could rhyme, until the very first thought formed on the very first mind, I think the average person would say we're doing just fine, and it's fine, from time to time, to be reminded to feel it! Feel it! Feel it! Feel it! Feel it!

Yo, I think too much, I need to do more emoting. Encircle myself with the flow, like a moat ring.
In this bubble of aura I can feel myself floating. Doing a lot more knowing, and a lot less hoping.
My God's advice-line is constantly open.There to tap into, good choice promoting!
Some call it E.S.P., I call it knowing which way gets the seal-of-approval, just like an O-ring.
So far, the only way not approved is not growing. Learning + experiencing, burning + glowing.
Dying down slowly, or totally blowing out, without a doubt is where My God's been going.

Since the days of the time before this human could rhyme, until my very first thought formed on my very first mind, I think the average person would say I's doing just fine, and it's fine, from time to time, for y'all to remind me to feel it! Feel it! Feel it! Feel it! Feel it!

9. Have Faith!

Sorry, y'all, but this here's a meditation for myself first + foremost; secondly, y'all can go for delf.
Go to Hell or get healthy. It's all the same to me, really: silly.
Tho I'd rather see peace for my children, see peace for yours, on these and distant shores
In the near and distant future. That's a target I could shoot for, solely.
The soul be a question for me. There's so many that My God won't answer, and that suits me fine.
I cherish what ignorance I possess. The fun of life's contained in attempting to guess, "Why?"
I try and dress fly, but I guess I'll still die one day. And what happens next? Good question,
But you won't catch me guessin; you'll still just find me pressin' Guess, so on that day I'll be well dressed, at least.
Ready to greet My God at last/again, and then I'll know whether or not it was a sin to have faith.

Ha- Have faith. Ha- ha- have faith. Have faith. Ha- ha-

See, I feel like C.S. Lewis 'cause I used to be the truest most bluest Atheist, but now I'm like Nietzsche:
A belief-system built for one. Having fun. Transmogrifying everyone's deity like a Hindu.
I'm into you, insofar as you're a star. "The Tao of Physics" is a ridiculous book, but I still dig it,
Tho the math is more profound which underlies it, more sound, for there's no logic in the sounds which we transcribe and call language: "I brang this sangwich"? To trade for your fruit cup. A couple of new pups.
"Whadja learn since recess?" We can guess and swap answers.
There's a test every second, and I'm guessin' that the answer's have faith.

Ha- Have faith. Ha- ha- have faith. Have faith. Ha- ha- ha-

I have faith that there's a plan, but don't pretend to know what it is; grounded in the inherit non-necessity of creation.
The fact that any given thing inandof itself even exists is proof of intention without answering the question, "Why?"
I know that I conceded the flow a long while ago. I'll get back to it in a second after this point I'm finished erecting.
I'm stressing the fact that this world as we know it coulda conceivably been impressed with any conceivable kind of mess, but it wasn't; this one was chosen.
And I'm supposin' this structure belies the nature of it's Creator, assuming one exists, which I do, 'cause that same creative unnecessariness necessitates a 1st Cause for this scariness; this hairy mess of contrariness we're bearing with.
Those of us who'd much rather trust and love our neighbors than plunge a sabre into their ribs, into their kids, and yet and still I have faith!

Ha- Have faith. Ha- ha- have faith. Have faith. Ha- ha- ha-

10. Godbody!


I'm part of the fabric!
I'm part of the fabric!
I'm part of the fabric!


I'm My God's ears.
I'm My God's eyes.
I'm My God's nose.
I'm My God's mouth.

11. Life Is Work

Yo, you better forget the myth that there might ever be an end to this: the struggle + the toil to stay vertical above the soil.
Inaction spoils the innards.
Lynyrd Skynyrd believed the bird is free, but -- word is 'b' -- even the chickadee expends ATP to get the sticks he see.
Makes me so sick to see these ladies wish to be the wife of someone rich.
High-paid whores suckin' dicks is all they are in the back of their cars.
They think they got off easy. They're getting someone else off, for sheezy.
There's no escape, believe me. If there were, I woulda figured it out by now.
Or how 'bout these bums who litter our streets like butts of cigarettes, beggin' me for cigarettes, or perhaps some change?
I find it strange; we all fall on hard times, and whether or not they actually need it, they're actin' like they need it, and actin' is a job.
The same with robbery. The lottery, as well, is no escape.
You give a third to Uncle Sam, the rest you take the rest of your life to give away, just like in "Brewster's Millions".
Life'll always find a way to make you work for your every breath, you can finally rest on your dying day, Holmes.
So, why you cryin'? Trying to bring the inevitable closer?
Or perhaps you still hope for a flaw in the logic I promote for your ultimate well being + benefit, so please remember it.
Yo, I'm not out here mouthing meaningless words like these degenerate emcees who seemed concerned only with the sound of their own voices.
I'm concerned with sound choices, and you can make 'em like I do if you remember that...
I f you remember that... if you can remember that

Life is work. Work is life. And don't you ever let nobody tell you that ain't right.
Life is work. Work is life. And don't you ever let nobody tell you that ain't right, aight?! (repeat)

Hip-hop is my life's work and that's why I hurt whenever incapable or unable to do it.
More true to it than the North Star was to ancient mariners.
Grammar's inconceivable without it + my greatest wish is that one day the opposite or inverse might be true.
But, regardless of whether or not you + your homies've ever heard of me, words'll be spillin' out of me like anatomy out of a gun-shot-wound victim.
That's why its so sickening seeing these kids mouth worthless words.
'Cause their lives at this time have no meaning, and I've got no time in mine anymore for things that sound good, but bore, or don't help my soul soar. They wouldn't do it, I'm sure, if only they knew that

Life is work. Work is life. And don't you ever let nobody tell you that ain't right.
Life is work. Work is life. And don't you ever let nobody tell you that ain't right, aight?! (repeat)

12. Music

Yo, experts agree, unofficially, hip-hop was conceived the same year as me.
Very near + dear to me, obviously, should be by this point in this joint.
Anointed in the year of '77.
7th Heaven I been in since the beginning of this heavenly art form; abnormal kid found something to cling to which rings true if it sings to you.
You can hear it in my voice.
The moisture in my eyes forces you to realize that this ish is no disguise for the things which I despise.
The rings on all these guys' fingers in all these pies lingers in all eyes-third of high nerds I term 'homie.'
Code word for inveterate word-nerds like me who know the pull of rap music.
We have to use it; we're attached to it.
Laughingly we admit we are a scratch druid, beat cleric, rhyme soldier-of-fortune.
Hoping our fortunes are holding + affording another opportunity to drop this shit.
We gotta pop this shit, 'cause a mere hop-jump-skip away is kids who play away our hard-earned collateral.
Barely heard the battle, yet tell tales like tattle that are tall.
They got the balls, nerve + the gumption to jump in the mix + start humpin' our bitch.
They're frontin' on rich, but the assumption is this: that when they punk + they dis' there will be somethin' amiss + me, true emcee, won't remind you you're listening to music.

You're listening to music.
You're listening to music.
You're listening to music.

Yo, it's way too easy to envision these kids getting high off the lids that they buy with the quids that some dumb exec gave to them in a check in a lump sum, expecting to recoup on these dum-dums as soon as the fun's done, as soon as the funds run dry.
No longer a dry eye, back to humdrum.
But while the high times are rollin' they're extollin' the virtues of a life they've never seen, + much less lived, at the behest of the exec who could give a half-fuck about the negative effects of glorifying thug culture.
The kids are down; corpse + a vulture combined in one.
They find it fun to rhyme with 'gun' any number of words, and in numbers absurd their words are multiplied and plied on the streets. Like flies on meat, the sight's disturbing to see young mouths wording words with absurd rings which are deemed to be true, although they're patently not.
Yo, I'm not the type of dude to say, "Some dude'll get shot due to the undue influence of this music. We ought to put a stop to it."
I just think it's funny what rappers do for money.
With all the guns, glitter, glam glistening, it's hard to remember, sometimes, you're only listening to music.

You're listening to music.
You're listening to music.
You're listening to music.

Yo, it's hard to believe that after all these years we still have critics and peers and non-experts of all stripe who fall for the hype that this type of noise can't be categorized as muse-inspired.
An argument so tired; it's been doing the impossible since the second it was revived, its disguise revised to revile these guys who had the gall to keep the beat alive by taping breaks together so the party people would take no breaks.
And each innovation made was parlayed into another exception based upon a technical definition.
The traditional calling card of a decrepit institution clearly scared to death to be explicitly losing relevance, thus it attempts to rewrite the rules we're using.
But, historically, ossification must take a bruising on the playing-field, 'cause moderns stand 'em up; they're on another level already, playing 3-D chess.
Flatlanders can't understand the measure of a man from a different planet, with a different plan.
It's a rather bland, annoying trait we humans have: personal preference, abstract from general reference.
A fatal mistske we all make.
We all fake the funk to be cute, but they made the point moot to refute that you're listening to music.

You're listening to music.
You're listening to music.
You're listening to music.

13. Radio

As you're turning the dial, your mouth'll turn into a smile when you land upon this shit; the motherfucking hit!
"This is my jam," you say softly to no one in particular as you whip the vehicular.
Turn up the articular Grammar + do some damage to your tympanic membrane.
It's nothing you can't sustain, and never mind the pain in your neck.
Nod your head to this, fuck Will Smith.
I liked him better as the Fresh Prince when I was too much of a wimp to dig Eazy-E.
I'm just kidding, he was my negro... back in the day when his desires were my equal: to hear his flows flowin' out the ride flowing by.
Yo, I still maintain that dream but it don't mean as much to me as it did back then, 'cause station heads is on crack, man.
And my patience was crackin', my sanity as well.
I had to focus on means + not ends or risk sending myself to H-E-double-hockey-sticks, + fawk that shit!

"Yo, we'd really love to play you." I know that's true. "But, you just don't fit our format." I know that too,
But whether rocked on your box by disc or disc jocks, the point is that my jams are like life: this shit knocks!
"We'd really love to play you." I know that's true. "But, you just don't fit our format." I know that too,
But, whether rocked on your box by disc or disc jocks, the point is that my jams are off the motherfucking heezy.

Doubt me, you'll only please me. Nobody need believe me.
J ust leave me alone when in the zone + then you'll see me 3 months later with another crater full of sheezy.
I'll have grown much greater, then all you haters can do is appease me by leaving me the keys to your frequencies.
Then I'll cancel all your ads + play myself more frequently than the corny shit in hot rotation on K-U-_-_.
I'm afraid I can't say the name, cause, yo, I don't speak the name of the devil.
But the local kids in the 206 oughta know now I'm on the level.
I used to go there... and jock those jocks heavily, 'til I found out those dudes were cocks steadily.
Back then they rocked Vanilla Ice insteada me.
Watch somebody tell 'em I'm cool, they'll be giving head to me, saying,

"We'd really love to play you." I know that's true. "But, you just don't fit our format." I know that too,
But whether rocked on your box by disc or disc jocks, the point is that my jams are like life: this shit knocks!
"We'd really love to play you." I know that's true. "But, you just don't fit our format." I know that too,
But whether rocked on your box by disc or disc jocks, the point is that my jams are like life: this bitch knocks!

14. CAITLINagain

Another day begun in bed next to the girl that I'm in love with right now;
I have to wonder how it happened, sometimes.
Looking back on younger times: barely on my mind, though I coulda found you any time I liked
On the grounds of our alma mater, mutual, like fish. As usual my wish was beautiful girls to kiss.
You knew me, you tol' me, 'fore you started dating my homie,
But totally new you were to me, like totally nude you are now.
Back then: a handshake + a grin. "Nice to meet you." I find I can immediately respect your mind.
But never mind mine; I'm sure that I would find me to be clucking like a hen if my me now woulda met me then.
And, in that sense, this, our relationship, is like a metric stick showing me how far I have come
To appeal to a girl so not dumb + unworldly. You mean the world to me, all that a girl should be.

C-A-I-T-L-I-N again. C-A-I-T-L-I-N again.

After that breakfast at Diamond Lil's, I saw little + heard even less of you over the years.
Absurd it seems to me now, considering the words we've shared;
Not to mention the thoughts, deeds + care that they represent.
I gotta represent; you present to me a delicious difficulty on the daily.
Namely: "What do you do with a potential baby-momma, when you ain't ready for the baby drama?"
I gotta honor the future we could shoot for. As a suitor, I'm hoping I'm too cute for you to forget + let go.
So, let's go; nice + slow. I know, I'm the one with the icy flo(w/e); the glacial pace with which I face my destiny.
I know it's best to be cautious, but I gotta get offa this pot on which I'm sittin' if I'm not shittin'.
Sorry, hon, to use a poop metaphor; ok: the clock's tickin'.
Hope I'm not regrettin' lettin' these thoughts get caught like a fly in amber, but I really gotta hand it to her.

C-A-I-T-L-I-N again. C-A-I-T-L-I-N and to think...

Our modern era started with an alleged game of Footsie. Gender-bent like Tootsie; how could I resist?
In the hot tub, showing lotsa love. The look I got was one of confusion for the moves I was makin'.
You said I was mistaken, yet I knew it all along; like a womb-taught song. We'll see if I was wrong about...

15. Rocking in the Face of Danger

Yo, reminds me of the time when the sun was shining.
My ass was tripping + my ass was flying.
Landed on my elbows in my uncle's neighborhood.
Felt no good, but I got up and brushed it off.
I mean, we all know -- y'know -- that we all go sometime.
It doesn't stop me from busting rhymes, and it shouldn't stop you from doing what you do, too.
Like getting your groove on, putting the moves on, the honey or the fella that you had your eye on.
Take a hot shower + put something fly on.
Roll to the club 10-deep with the dub in hand, and get yourself a strobe light tan, col'

Rockin' in the face of danger! Rockin' in the face of motherfuckin' present danger!
Death is all around us in this world we love. Getting down with a smile's the only way to get above. (repeat)

I used to have a complex about the powerful U.S.
A cog in this insatiable machine that uses the time + resources of the weaker forces of the world just to create these Porsches!
I couldn't even go + get a bite to eat without thinkin' bout the child that cried itself to sleep.
But then I understood that they would, if they could, trade places with me.
So I'll keep talkin' 'til they're free, + keep

Rockin' in the face of danger! Rockin' in the face of motherXXXXin' present danger!
Death is all around us in this world we love. Getting down with a smile's the only way to get above.

The state of the world is like the boardgame "Mousetrap": one false move + the house of cards falls flat.
They all wack, those who won't make peace!
The warpath's end is the decease of the species.
So let's take a detour while the taking's possible, 'cause grandma don't look so good like a fossil.
And neither does the grandchild, mine or yours.
But if we can't make peace for ourselves in due course, I'll keep rockin'!

16. Today's the Day I Die

I awake from sleep for the last time and ask My God what my tasks for the day might be, and It says, "_________."
The same as yesterday. The best of ways to let me know I know too much already.
I'm all ready for the day; hop out of bed already dressed. Got my best shoes + socks on; suit of heavy paper.
Peek outside: the sun's been up a sec, peekin' thru the clouds.
Still ignorant am I at this point to the fact of this fateful day.
It occurs to me, "I might die today," and everything stays the same.
Nothing changes 'cause nothing strange this is; nothing to complain about.
Nothing my life hasn't been about ever since I figured it out a couple years ago.
"Your fears, let go," I told myself, "You're helpless, and fear's bad for your health.
Better to face it. Better yet, to just embrace it.
Best of all, entirely erase it from your considerations; make it the cornerstone of your calculations."
Check my heart: no palpitations. I step into the shower.
Take an hour making breakfast, and a quarter cleaning up.
Feening for the coffee cup, I roll myself a puff... of smoke, and think about the stuff Plato put in Socrates's mouth.
Like how 'bout the one about: It's illogic to fear Death, 'cause none of us have done it yet, and returned to report on the pros + cons. You know he was on some shit; all I know's:

Today's the day I die... Today's the day I die... Today's the day I die... Today's the day I die...

Today's the day I die, the day I fry. The day I go bye-bye.
The day I get to stop wondering why there's gotta be so many different ways in which to lay me down to sleep.
The least disturbing of which would be in the midst of being sound asleep.
Or ground up like a pound of beef via a machine I was inspecting.
Or, maybe, found on the ground of the Puget Sound; it's deep.
Or, running 'round downtown in a Jeep, I could crash, get car-jacked, or talk back to the wrong hound police.
K-9s on my nuts, w/ .45 slugs in my butt. Tell the Crips I'm a Blood. Step to their girls, be like, "What's up?"
Stay up too late getting down + be found in the crown of one of the trees surrounding my apartment building.
Be only partly willing to go along with the wishes of a vicious hostage-taker. Sausage-maker --
Oh, already said that one. Play with a gun. Improperly use an industrial chemical, or ride in a car.
This ride so far's been fraught with so many chances t'do dance with Death.
The fact I haven't bought it yet? I can only attest to the grace of My God, I know:

Today's the day I die... Today's the day I die... Today's the day I die... Today's the day I die...

You know what? The most dangerous thing about my E.S.P. is I believe it sometimes to be telling me the date, time, means + motive of my own execution as a soldier in the Army of this Roots Revolution.
You know, the one that fights for its brother as well as itself. The only valorous way left to go down these days.
I get a full no-state funeral. My family's assembled, fully flanked by my friends, whom I thank until the end, for sending me hither + thither, to grow my soul bigger. The music makes 'em quiver, cause the chorus is -- go figure!

Today's the day I die... Today's the day I die... Today's the day I die... Today's the day I die...

17. We'll Be Alright

Yo, yo!
So here I am, chillin' on this mountain-top, higher than the kid who tried to smoke an oz. of pot in one sitting, enjoying watching the sun setting; letting the idea of Armageddon engulf me.
But no matter how much I think about how much we're fucked, I've still got to chuckle.
Maybe it's because I've never felt true hardship.
Could be I'm crazy, or perhaps I'm just in complete denial. But, I still gotta smile.
The reason being, My God has instilled me with the most unreasonable feeling that every single thing is gonna be alright, and my faith forces me to assume that feeling's right.
So, despite what my left brain might wish to say is true, this is what I say to you:
Rejoice all people! Rejoice all people! Cause I will never leave whatever I L-O-V-E!

If I didn't think we'd be alright, I'd end my life this very night with this very knife and be buried right now.
But, you'll notice, there's no blade in my hand, and I still plan on creating a little woman + man.

Yo, the signs are all around us that the time is nigh when no member of this race can sit passively by
Any longer and long for days long-gone when ignoring the ubiquitous strains of swan-song was a possibility,
But now that's positively silly. I see flames of destruction consuming most of our cities.
I see millions more innocents having to burn before we finally learn once + for all what we've known all along:
Any way but peace is wrong. Yo, the path might be bloody + long, but I must believe we're on it.
Otherwise, My God bothered with our construction only knowing we're headed for self-destruction
And, as far as I'm concerned, my friends, that simply cannot be true. So, this is why I say to you that
If I didn't think we'd be alright, I'd end my life this very night...

More About This Album:

Wow, what can I say about this album?... My first attempt to explicate my connection to My God. Many ppl thought I was Christian based on this album, but absolutely not... Have been meaning (for quite some time) to write up the whole thing; the whole interconnected mess, but haven't had a ton of luck til this year. Having a muse helps... It'll be ready soon; before the end of this year, I hope...

In the meantime, there's this album... I'm so preternaturally / supernaturally happy with this album. It couldn't've turned out better.

All beats created by me. All lyrics written by me (except for "Deutschrock!" which Meesh did.) All rapping recorded by me. All sound effects sequenced by me. All skratches by me. Artwork by me. Or, all done through me by My God, I should say.

"Dreamscape" features a girl named Ema I met at Java Joe's in Rochester sometime late 2002 / early 2003.  "A Mother's Curse" features Annie Rosen.

So, I need to explain to you how I made these beats cause it was so dope... So, I had bought this radio / tape player at a garage sale cause it could record the radio onto audio tape internally. I remember the dude who was running the garage sale was aware of this fact and knew how it enhanced the value of the radio. So, it wasn't a crazy price but he didn't just give it to me for nothing either. So, at the time that I was making this album (2000 - 2002) my friends (especially Eso + Mic) were bragging about how they were producing a beat a day! So, I was like, "Yo, I never done that: a beat a day." and their beats were dope! I was like, "Gotta find a way to do this...." then God showed it to me. Here's what I did:

I popped a blank tape in the tape player part of the boombox and turned the radio dial all the way to one side or the other (L or R.) Then I hit record on the tape and started to slowly turn the dial all the way from one side to the other. I would stop if I heard something interesting... The coolest part was how moving the dial or just the natural strength of the broadcast would affect the samples, like make em dirty, add noise, overlap two broadcasts at once, etc. After going from one side to the other, I would go back to the original side. That would be the entire sampling session: One trip up and down the radio dial. It usually ended up being about 3 minutes of tape at most. Naturally, in my journeys up and down, I would spend more time on things that caught my fancy. It was interesting using this method with Uncle Mic for the first time. The things he stopped on, spent time on... It was so interesting.

I would then cull the samples for a single song from this 3 minute session. I would not go outside of this taped session for a particular song except to get a little percussion or drums from the synthesizer on the Korg; all of the samples for a particular song needed to be found in that 3 minute session. This was an interesting challenge. I manipulated the samples (slow em down, stretch em out, reverse em) on the E-Mu. Naturally, everything was coordinated from the Korg X3 sequencer. All of a sudden, I found I could make a dope beat in a single day! It was incredible!

ps I dubbed this style of producing beats "Teevee Style" 'cause I originally had the production idea described above in regards to a television. That is, it was the exact idea described above, save using a TV instead of a radio. I still plan on trying this someday, but it must be harder than with radio as far as getting drums... There is lots of treble and bass things on TV, but not that much dope drums, and it's hard to make a hiphop beat w/o some kind of dope drums... Still, I'm gonna try it someday.
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