Archaic Archeopteryx is my spirit animal,
a fossil in a niche,
not concerned with walking mammals.
Whether lyrics rip sick new tears in reality,
like 666 the beast that's brewing in my belly.
Zack de la rockin', and I'm blocking out my worries with words,
twist a sentence like an arm, feeding my guilt to the birds.
Killing in the name of peace,
please,
killing for that long lost spiritual release.
Pick a part to play in life, but so many covers,
don't concern myself with me, validation from others.
Jolts spark dark with an air of uncertainty,
bleached bones bathing in the acid of society.
Toxic to the touch, lead in the lungs,
a blur in the vision, and a pin on the tongue.
Born of a broken man, bandaged with spoken poetry,
the anti-spider web spun by the flies of normality.
Not born as a ghost,
but destined to become,
gather the people under the sequel of the still warm sun.
Rage planted the seeds,
with rap I watered through,
trimmed the shoots with abstract thought, now watch this flower bloom.
Pick a part to play in life, but so many covers,
don't concern myself with me, validation from others.
Jolts spark dark with an air of uncertainty,
bleached bones bathing in the acid of society.
More rap than poetry.
Brought to you by a lifelong love for Rage Against the Machine.