FLAWBOARDS

#m_e_t_a_p_h_o_r #rapfame_ar_team #rapfame_official Lyrics by m_e_t_a_p_h_o_r : Is it getting hot in here or did your fire just burn out of date?  Did you just flashbang me or did your live-wire suddenly feel the need to self-immolate?  I don't know about us but we think it's all some kind of disorder, thinking random thought waves over the wires and into these recorders, strapped to the headset, it's not an RPG but each level has a new wave of eminenemies and I 'aint dead yet, they're all the has-been's that've been penning at me, the can't do's and wannabes, the not-gonna-be's, see them coming but never thinking ahead of me, that dream is all becoming a nothing, see?  They sink in their place and their piracy ships as natural skills with quills like cannons are equipped, got cannonballs for driving at their dividing walls, got the scripts, they got the balls to control with a wink and a handshake but still they're hiding behind Fort-walls and fire-walls, did they not think that the land and it's ties would break under the weight of these mistakes? insights to instill in the wake of the ground-shakes, tremors and tribulations to take like waking to take this life with a salt-pinched hindsight but swallow no pill for the snake or the sake of living with the strain, gotta be prepared to balance the finest edge of a three-sided shame, never lean your neck out in a dichotomous rain but keep all ten toes on the blade-tip when you tip-toe as the beating of the ten-tonne hammer at your backside blows at your hip, and everybody knows that you're live, always ready to roll as the eyes and heads roll and the eye-pins and headwinds blow... and the minds're blown, my rhyme-sack is a rhythm-snack-pack of turncards but the aces are kept below, flip and cut on the decks to burn the tapedeck and the face of the blazing tracks back 'til they turn to Ash - all burnt to shards and no hand can follow that, every poker face can keep their eyes down and face straight all they like because they gambled and lost and so they shall wallow like a folded Jack, this is the result of the hollow Jack o' lantern fires that they start in the meadows of art, in the shadows of the valleys, hidden in the alleys dark, and that's the hardest truth to swallow at the start, I rise above it with an everlasting ethereal spark, like a Pheonix from the flames I must be higher up than the surface heat of their mind-games and low-level quick-starts, nothing but smoke, the energy's a joke and I may be strange but I'm a strange-quark, I create blackholes to cypher out the empty minds and hearts, who try to block our sight and our eyes as they grey-fill the sky so we choke on our last words and can't see reality for the fake tears that we cry as we die...  Is this getting cold in here now or did we just start to play some real games?  They solemnly promised it was all fun and pains, some time long gone, some allegiance pledged back in a same different day, that was alledged, but that was definitely all another painful pain on a difiniteively different stained page, just another descriptive grace, descriptors and depictions of disgace, all pictured and lay in place on a pagefull of otherwise deserted pain-stains, like a desert and each problem's just another lost grain, every work of tragedy's a drop in a dried up ocean of dismay but each spilled puddle was reflecting, and I painted a mirror that's projecting it all back onto a blank page again, one that's since torn and scorched with the edges all curled and aged, but the scripts still cut through like an incision from a rusted but trusty old blade, so I chop off the less than Demigod level thoughts, ending the word fights with a wordsword of a sanctified retort, a tool of martyrdom and cause I enscribe with my name but worn on my sleeve in a gauze, tied in a knot like the system wars, but my defence is only sheathed with a meagre cord, I give my words to the ears of the eager hoards, set these diamonds and pearls to Quicksilver in a cryptic display of words... probably best kept under the rotating, rotting floorboards... All plausible metaphors and metaphoric word-thoughts... #M_E_T_A_P_H_O_R #RAPFAME #RAP #HIPHOP #LYRICAL #FLOW