Diacritical - “War Crimes” 2007

I’m not my father

I’m the oracle
the lyrical miracle
I’m filling that hole in my soul
with spiritual spackle
caught in a debacle
smoking wack-o-tobacco
words in a conundrum
over the bass drum
if life was a needle
it’d be stuck in the eye
of the norm of the storm
I cuddle with chaos to stay warm
like love letters with no postage, man
I wandered from land to land with marker in hand
clenched fist could have caused carpel tunnel
all the races in a funnel siphoned out to be the modern man
and they wonder why the world has gone under
because we don’t except we label keeping the balance unstable
like some who concentrate their power to create
a world polluted by corporate clowns turning smiles upside down
little rich girl
never seen her daddy’s world
all the money that he stole all the lives out of control for what, greed, the need to succeed

Disease resides in the mind
Frequently travels through time
And lovers pay for war crimes
The mothers pay for war crimes

I’ll shake the world like an etch-a sketch
And hopefully the rest can catch
My drift
A pivotal moment to deposit there opinion
I’m peeling the layers of an onion
The core is marketed , yes
again in pursuit of capital
the out come being volatile

the stocks in family value are depleted but still the beat’s repeated

so the
message in conceived and hopefully received
with open ears and joy full tears
the truth is no one succeed without failing first
so in a burst of anxious power
I make my rivals cower
and realize that all along they were
incognito, diseased like a mosquito
plaguing there own mind
and walking a thin line between the
dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb….