| 作曲 : Booth, Dälek, Oktopus | |
| 1. In midst of struggle | |
| No movement's subtle | |
| Rely on skilled verbals since none stand eternal | |
| Learned men lose gnosis | |
| Life taken in small doses only lasts equivalent | |
| Attempts discordant | |
| Irreverent exploits resonate blatant | |
| At core, every last statement is ancient | |
| Adjacent actions lack passion | |
| Those easily distracted attract wrath of real factions | |
| Granted breath, so there's your precious gift | |
| Your half-assed attempts landed you in ill predicaments | |
| Indicative of lost wisdom, gained fear | |
| Affected speech and handshakes insincere | |
| Seen through that fraudulent folklore | |
| Frail orators narrate own demise with reverb drenched rhymes | |
| As uncivilized eyes focus on torn moral fabric | |
| Deaf ears fall tuned to static | |
| Like suicide my whisper is tragic | |
| Emphatic applause at minor loss left none to rest on Sabbath. | |
| chorus: | |
| You take sword and I'll take mic | |
| Words spark revolution at man's twilight | |
| Words granite | |
| Mic flow erratic | |
| These lyrics from gutter Bricks | |
| Lift mist from mind's stagnant | |
| 2. Severed windpipes often cause empires to fall | |
| Calm as angel they'd announce heir to bludgeoned throne | |
| Violent seeds constantly resown | |
| Arsenic laced climate awaits spark to implode | |
| Floodlights shone into tired eyes since youth | |
| Poems honed now retaliate with truth | |
| I seen gods lose honor with each word they chose | |
| Diluted prose formed phrase in three notes | |
| Concealed hope only provokes primal act of called savage | |
| While they sold postcards of hangings | |
| Acts of your Forefathers damning | |
| Got nerve to call darker damaged | |
| When pale skin brought anguish | |
| Made every gun that we brandish | |
| Stole history, culture, music, and all language | |
| Sense panic when brown skin dare speak of sins that all happened | |
| Mad we ain't dancing??? | |
| Minimal advancement won't make me passive | |
| Lucid lyricist disciplined like assassin. | |
| chorus: | |
| You take sword and I'll take mic | |
| Words spark revolution at man's twilight | |
| Words granite | |
| Mic flow erratic | |
| These lyrics from gutter Bricks | |
| Lift mist from mind's stagnant |
| zuo qu : Booth, D lek, Oktopus | |
| 1. In midst of struggle | |
| No movement' s subtle | |
| Rely on skilled verbals since none stand eternal | |
| Learned men lose gnosis | |
| Life taken in small doses only lasts equivalent | |
| Attempts discordant | |
| Irreverent exploits resonate blatant | |
| At core, every last statement is ancient | |
| Adjacent actions lack passion | |
| Those easily distracted attract wrath of real factions | |
| Granted breath, so there' s your precious gift | |
| Your halfassed attempts landed you in ill predicaments | |
| Indicative of lost wisdom, gained fear | |
| Affected speech and handshakes insincere | |
| Seen through that fraudulent folklore | |
| Frail orators narrate own demise with reverb drenched rhymes | |
| As uncivilized eyes focus on torn moral fabric | |
| Deaf ears fall tuned to static | |
| Like suicide my whisper is tragic | |
| Emphatic applause at minor loss left none to rest on Sabbath. | |
| chorus: | |
| You take sword and I' ll take mic | |
| Words spark revolution at man' s twilight | |
| Words granite | |
| Mic flow erratic | |
| These lyrics from gutter Bricks | |
| Lift mist from mind' s stagnant | |
| 2. Severed windpipes often cause empires to fall | |
| Calm as angel they' d announce heir to bludgeoned throne | |
| Violent seeds constantly resown | |
| Arsenic laced climate awaits spark to implode | |
| Floodlights shone into tired eyes since youth | |
| Poems honed now retaliate with truth | |
| I seen gods lose honor with each word they chose | |
| Diluted prose formed phrase in three notes | |
| Concealed hope only provokes primal act of called savage | |
| While they sold postcards of hangings | |
| Acts of your Forefathers damning | |
| Got nerve to call darker damaged | |
| When pale skin brought anguish | |
| Made every gun that we brandish | |
| Stole history, culture, music, and all language | |
| Sense panic when brown skin dare speak of sins that all happened | |
| Mad we ain' t dancing??? | |
| Minimal advancement won' t make me passive | |
| Lucid lyricist disciplined like assassin. | |
| chorus: | |
| You take sword and I' ll take mic | |
| Words spark revolution at man' s twilight | |
| Words granite | |
| Mic flow erratic | |
| These lyrics from gutter Bricks | |
| Lift mist from mind' s stagnant |
| zuò qǔ : Booth, D lek, Oktopus | |
| 1. In midst of struggle | |
| No movement' s subtle | |
| Rely on skilled verbals since none stand eternal | |
| Learned men lose gnosis | |
| Life taken in small doses only lasts equivalent | |
| Attempts discordant | |
| Irreverent exploits resonate blatant | |
| At core, every last statement is ancient | |
| Adjacent actions lack passion | |
| Those easily distracted attract wrath of real factions | |
| Granted breath, so there' s your precious gift | |
| Your halfassed attempts landed you in ill predicaments | |
| Indicative of lost wisdom, gained fear | |
| Affected speech and handshakes insincere | |
| Seen through that fraudulent folklore | |
| Frail orators narrate own demise with reverb drenched rhymes | |
| As uncivilized eyes focus on torn moral fabric | |
| Deaf ears fall tuned to static | |
| Like suicide my whisper is tragic | |
| Emphatic applause at minor loss left none to rest on Sabbath. | |
| chorus: | |
| You take sword and I' ll take mic | |
| Words spark revolution at man' s twilight | |
| Words granite | |
| Mic flow erratic | |
| These lyrics from gutter Bricks | |
| Lift mist from mind' s stagnant | |
| 2. Severed windpipes often cause empires to fall | |
| Calm as angel they' d announce heir to bludgeoned throne | |
| Violent seeds constantly resown | |
| Arsenic laced climate awaits spark to implode | |
| Floodlights shone into tired eyes since youth | |
| Poems honed now retaliate with truth | |
| I seen gods lose honor with each word they chose | |
| Diluted prose formed phrase in three notes | |
| Concealed hope only provokes primal act of called savage | |
| While they sold postcards of hangings | |
| Acts of your Forefathers damning | |
| Got nerve to call darker damaged | |
| When pale skin brought anguish | |
| Made every gun that we brandish | |
| Stole history, culture, music, and all language | |
| Sense panic when brown skin dare speak of sins that all happened | |
| Mad we ain' t dancing??? | |
| Minimal advancement won' t make me passive | |
| Lucid lyricist disciplined like assassin. | |
| chorus: | |
| You take sword and I' ll take mic | |
| Words spark revolution at man' s twilight | |
| Words granite | |
| Mic flow erratic | |
| These lyrics from gutter Bricks | |
| Lift mist from mind' s stagnant |
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