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Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #4,835
Peak in subgenre #339
Author
c-Kam
Uploaded
July 21, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.3 MB • 128 kbps • 2:28
Lyrics
Throw yourself
into a pit
and sit on the chair
of nothingness--
coming, rushing to you
is the floor of fullness,
and following the impact
is the feeling of wholeness.
But HOLD IT!
Pause, rewind, and stop.
If there is no form
then what is there to drop
or to stand on top?
There is no belly flop
or pain from hitting rocks--
so what free-fall
do I speak of?
What death is being cocked
from what gun?
By what sun
could we ever see?
What day did we awake
and what night can we lay?
What pen touched what page?
What ink touched what lines?
What tongue tickled
what lips and spit out
what rhymes?
What form is this vibration,
what emptiness--sensation?
What cleanliness encases
this house of many faces?
What question
gets what answer,
what statement holds
what Truth?
If Chang Tzu was a butterfly
then what am I
and who are you?
Are you not me;
are you even sure?...
cuz every time
I look through a window,
I realize that it's a door.
This is NOT a metaphor,
a simile,
or poetic device--
this is not alliteration, assonation,
or spiritual advice--
this is disintegration,
realization of the Truth--
there is no what, no where,
no when, why or who--
there is no you
and there is no I.
There is no grass,
no trees, no rainbows
in the sky.
There is no color,
there is no light,
there is no peace,
there is no fight--
so come into my world
lock the door
and bolt the hatchet,
sit down here
by the fire
and set aside your attachments.
You're too skewed.
I look at this race
and all I see is...
seas
of Picasso-painted faces.
I flip my brain
inside-out
and double-take
at this one bum
eating cake.
He looks like he's late,
or maybe
several centuries early--
trapped on the street
until the day he was supposed to be born.
Either way, people need
to be warned;
time is not the game,
it's the rule.
Keeps us in check,
respectful, too.
Because of time
we procrastinate,
bastards blame bitches
and snitches tell lies.
Any way you slice it,
it's still the same pie.
We're eating our lives
until there's no more time,
and then at the last second
realize we gotta die--
but pray for a little more
cuz we never completed our jobs.
So we take it up with the Lord,
Allah, and other gods.
We all bend our backs
to limbo under the rod,
but we set our bars too low
so just fall on our side.
I'm tired of rolling over
and bowing low
I'm gonna stand up straight
and jump for the sky
'til I fly over clouds
and never ever come down--
breaking barriers, moving faster
than the speed of sound.
I'll sail on swift winds
til I ride the Earth around
and then bring my wings to others
to experience what I've found.
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