[Killah Priest]
The blind folded sculpture, quiet bomb bursts
A rebel fall, turn the ground black with sulfur
Full Metal Jacket tactics, Galactica flying over
The silent screams of a dying soldier
He looks around to find his arm, his mind is gone
The final closure of this soldier, but it’s not over
He sees a stream of fire, burns his flesh
A swimming skeleton, he takes his breath
The river takes him, his bones break some
Upon the flaming corals, where crabs and sea shells boils
Upon the rigid stone serpent’s coil
He tries to stare through his holes in his skull
A dirty seagull picks a dead fish from out his nose bone
(Help me, help me)
While in the other place, deep in white space
The tables with nice plates, wine and a vase
It’s golden; they say they grace the chosen
A peaceful face, the olive grass, give em a bath
His son washes his face, the Prophet laughs washing the grapes
A soft light of Him enters in, we all bright
We drift through the wind, Of no confusion
It’s done, which side you choosing

[Kevlaar 7]
Dug a grave in his brain, blood stained his memory
He lay lonely, his only soul forgiven
Prisoners dwelling until the shells started swelling
Heat concluded once abused his windless lungs
Confusing his journey between dirt and the sun
Nameless men cleanse his hand of his gun
A cage of unseen birds, left free in the dust
Live boots run by, a vultures calling his bluff
Waiting for the moments since his life’s frozen
Atonement, face stoned in the scavenger’s wind
The final breath, until embalming begins
Calling the shadows his home when the daylight ends

[Bronze Nazareth]
Deepened skin, burgundy laced within
Puzzled lights dim, hemorrhaged tissue underneath the brim
And skull cap hiding, deteriorated faded hair patch
Cold abscess, eye lashes flared like boat crashes
Skin resemble cells of broken glasses
He’s frozen as time in, diamond Rolex
Those who watch his soul divided from his physical essence
Realize without both eyes the crows came for collection
Staring at the stairs of heaven, the brain’s dead end
Weak veins turn to ash, syringes hit the capillaries
Dosage varies for this airborne float like Ferris
His raw elbow; lay in the basins of oppression
Zombie like organisms whose symptom’s exposed
Now receiving bites from mites who bend and burrow
Knuckles ripe, tissues stiffen by the time we see light
This throws us, but notice how we walk, real pain
Electrical message to the brain predict he’ll meet Cobain
Dormant until unknown lights told him the way home
His sixth sense; sees his father write ghostly poems
As he floats toward the underground
They plot his gravesite
The theater made of clouds, no chance for stage fright

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