info-Pop_Outbreak

You’ve got plenty to be concerned about, now open your windows
Look up, the constellations start to roam with my kinfolk
Look up, look up, I cast my net like it’s plaster
The balances in my head look like your medicine cabinet
No fault of my own, far from my home, profit from madness
No college degree, not much to see, it’s all a bit static
Sprinkled seeds around the city see how many get stuck
Nah I ain’t into taking chances so I bury the nut
Why? Because the future is grim brothers and sisters
I’m here to make music and sin, nothing but mischief
Now, I don’t know if you missed the warning signs and shit
Loss of jobs, moms and pops, they couldn’t have a pot to piss
I’m a skeptic of false gurus, was brought up to trust few
No just nukes, no slush funds, no government blood pool
No info pop outbreak, some of it floods through
I’m six blocks from the Parliament, this my supplement
Is this on, the point’s I’m not saying shit to you
My worldview is worthless, do ya' thing check out Winterlude
I’m trying to make my mark before they dissolve my physical
'Cause when I ride into the sunset, I’m Icarus it’ll be literal
Yo let it burn
I find myself alive in Roman times, call me Nero with a fiddle and a song for
our demise
Let it burn
I find myself alive in Roman times, call me Mars I brought a flame for those
who fail to read the signs
Let it burn
I find myself alive in Roman times, call me Nero with a fiddle and a song for
our demise
Let it burn
I find myself alive in Roman times, call me Mars I brought a flame for those
who fail to read the signs
Yo, no rain of blood, no mushroom cloud, no cosmic fireball
It’s right beneath your noses while you’re watching for the sky to fall
Now something’s bubbling over
While this Tylenol dissolves I’m finding all ya' idols' forms
I’ve seen the high exalted fallen in this cauldron where I climb the walls and
reminisce of innocence
That never was or never will I can’t see what the difference is
I’ve named these daggers temperance, they stay beneath the skin
But oh the sheath is wearing thin so if you strain you’ll see a glimpse of them
This is how I feel, now when it’s done, karma’s a Marxist
Every martyr stands up equal with the evil and the heartless
And the harvest we’ve all reaped, is something bleaker than the tar pits
And the starkness runs much deeper than what’s preached upon the parchment
Ah but I just crack a smile into a thousand points of light
And any fire on that mountain left, it’s coming down tonight
I got the farthest thing from godliness to sprinkle on the drum
Since my lunch went pink been sinking on the brink of kingdom come
And it’s hideous, I’ve listened to these global village idiots
But really this is overkill, the road we built’s insidious
Dog-eat-dog by any means for your survival keep in mind
Who might be waiting for you at the bottom of that spiral
Let it burn
I find myself alive in Roman times, call me Mars I brought a flame for those
who fail to read the signs
Let it burn
I find myself alive in Roman times, call me Nero with a fiddle and a song for
our demise
Let it burn
I find myself alive in Roman times, call me Mars I brought a flame for those
who fail to read the signs
Let it burn
I find myself alive in Roman times, call me Nero with a fiddle and a song for
our demise
Let it burn
«A legion of horribles, hundreds in number, half naked or clad in costumes
attic or biblical or wardrobed out of a fevered dream with the skins of animals
and silk finery and pieces of uniform still tracked with the blood of prior
owners, coats of slain dragoons, frogged and braided cavalry jackets,
one in a stovepipe hat and one with an umbrella and one in white stockings and
a bloodstained wedding veil and some in headgear or cranefeathers or rawhide
helmets that bore the horns of bull or buffalo and one in a pigeontailed coat
worn backwards and otherwise naked and one in the armor of a Spanish
conquistador, the breastplate and pauldrons deeply dented with old blows of
mace or sabre done in another country by men whose very bones were dust and
many with their braids spliced up with the hair of other beasts until they
trailed upon the ground and their horses' ears and tails worked with bits of
brightly colored cloth and one whose horse’s whole head was painted crimson red
and all the horsemen’s faces gaudy and grotesque with daubings like a company
of mounted clowns, death hilarious, all howling in a barbarous tongue and
riding down upon them like a horde from a hell more horrible yet than the
brimstone land of Christian reckoning»