It's like i'm from another earth,
i'm so extra-terrestrial.
It's like i'm from a ****** birth,
annointed holy: the celestial.
My word is the blade of man,
i'm the vocalist vestibule,
with the tongue that is best to rule:
i spin gold with but threads of wool
Fools clear out they schedules
for the local, state, federal,
yet i endeavor unfettered through
The restrictions that tether you.

The purchase of aptitude
is priced to attract but few,
my soul at this altitude
is burdened with solitude:
i'll be forever indebted
to the devil i sold it to.