Open Mic Vol 1
By Luke Quist
Intimate echoes simplify the souls music.
Reflect thoughts with a penny, heads up,
forget to use its luck, who chose this path?
Blast back, teeth gritted in confusion,
perched upon a wall of opinions,
littered with writtens of youth's intimate visions.
Mic in hand, reflecting imagery.
broken crayons at my feet,
Red light, slow down the pace kid.
Erase unwanted memories
as you pick up chalk, simplify meaning
by inscribing your name backwards and walk.
Dim lights down my mind path,
aftermath, of enigmatic expressions.
Lessen the tension to wield the weapon
of a misguided man, revive the dammned
acceptance to ignorant blissfull repentance.
Bent paperclips between my fingers
sweat drops linger, and choose you
to fuse two beats of your heart.
Depart the intelligence and seek
gradification, heart peaks around
the corners to your master presentation.
Lie by the truth, live by the question mark.
Spit at angels in dark suits and rewind the beat.
Sway the broken record from its foundation,
education of culture from soaken labrynths.
Define hope please, im at my knees,
seaking to believe these keys to life that I misplaced.
Pick up the pace kid. Green light.
Forget the drama on the mic and wreck havok
with an open mind and an open mouth.
Fly south of your heartbeat and
enter the enemies mind with stealth.
Throw your soul from a cloud and
hope it hits open water.
Avoid the bridges, dont bother to
care for the simple things.
Reach for the stars, even if you get hurt.
Hand Jesus the mic and rhyme to the fullest.
Don't doubt the revolution.
Don't doubt the revolution.
Use the useless greed for truthless things
to feed the human beings through a rhyme.
Time after Time I throw down the truth,
reality spins from the concrete below my feet,
creates the beat I down my throat.
Swallow the blooming flower.
Don't..
Stop, take a step back.
Kids get it twisted and twist it, kick it simplistic,
im sick of it, but i missed the hook to write in my book.
Rains of thumbtacks drown my voice
while stinging rains blind the onlooking civilians.
Take a step back kid, slow down the pace, Red light.
Pick it back up, speed it up and race kid, Green light
Take flight, I speak it right kid, your mind is coming.
So while I'm running
Don't doubt this revolution.
Listen to my rhymes and use this advice.
Shoot down God's plane with patriot missle.
Hand Jesus the turntables, its simple religion's my label.
