Crown of Thorns (Kether)

I proclaim in harmonious accord
Holy is the Lord, holy is the Lord
Roll me in the morgue, throw me in the floor
Put me in a dark cave, roll a boulder over door
Holy is the Lord, holy is the Lord
More pain than a soldier can endure
Holder of the sword, Conan in the war
Chosen one is born, roses full of thorns
Holy is the Lord
Dark lullaby of the smart, colored guy
Large cluttered mind, but a sharp hunter’s eye
Cry blood in the water, it’s shark supper time
Jumped and dived in like a cannon ball and twenty died
Eat the meat, collect the teeth and pluck the eyes
Walls have skulls of rare species, a hundred kinds
Mummy shrine, like the one that Danny Glover finds
In Predator, and some are mine from my double lives
Jump in time like Flubber slime, hunt the other I’s
Kill twelve and stand lone like the sun and shine
Numb inside — ever since my grandmother died
I never knew so many tears can come from an eye
Wonder why, the money sign is a caduceus?
Reveal the snakes in the staff that you moving with
Studious Nubian, sufi who Tahuti is
Reducing truth to the nucleus, you get used to this
Callous now, bat catching but I don’t use a mit
Read palms, Caught the ball before he threw the pitch
My super suit equips unusual accoutrements
The hooligan of the Rosicrucian tutelage
I proclaim in harmonious accord
Holy is the lord, holy is the lord
Roll me in the morgue, Throw me in the floor
Put me in a dark cave, Roll a boulder over door
Holy is the lord, holy is the lord
More pain than a soldier can endure
Holder of the sword, Conan in the war
Chosen one is born, roses full of thorns
Holy is the. young — phil-loso-pher
Like I’m petting a dog
Talking to the doc-tor like I’m Cesar Milan
I shizhu’s like I just ate an Animal Farm
Alaykum Salaam
Descendant of the Hannibal Spawn
Channeling Gods, Step in the pond
Bathe in the holy water
I’m anointed in the golden armor
I’m a coke importer
Saw the Alpo and pour, the dogs eaten
Retrieving, I’m a golden barker
Crack in hand like a bone disorder
Or the bare fist of a Roman brawler
Cut-man, I control the corner
I’ma roll a quarter
Get to fucking on your only daughter
If the ho tell, I’ma go Rwanda
I’m the oldest sorcerer, hold the cross up
Worship me, this is total dogma
Focus harder, you might see the soul of Batta
I’m a solar bot, sun-powered Robocop
Black tactician
Grab scissors, get the grass trimming
I was only clipping for a half minute
Turn the forest to a lawn as I flattened it
I unwrap hidden ruins from my last visit
First breathing and the last living, shifting
The Holy One has risen, lifted
In adaptive mode
In ten minutes of meditation I’ll accurately map the globe
I’ll lick the poison from the glands of a magic toad
Gun pointed at my face like Khaled’s phone
I’ll turn gold into lead, and then back to gold
Imagination of a seven and a half year old
I proclaim in harmonious accord
Holy is the lord, holy is the lord
Roll me in the morgue, Throw me in the floor
Put me in a dark cave, Roll a boulder over door
Holy is the lord, holy is the lord
More pain than a soldier can endure
Holder of the sword, Conan in the war
Chosen one is born, Roses full of thorns
Holy is the Lord