Saafir The Saucee Nomad - Paroles

Boxcar Sessions - Album

Bent

I've been down this corridor

Before you enter you have to bring

Back the creator of winter damn

Too late I'm spoiled I need the napalm

I got it I shot it in my left sector

Blew up the timing device on the reactor.

Time shifted I had to remold the floor

The foundation for creation mate's blend

The pleasure dome into another roam

A walk stalked nightly by the ogre

That's rarely sober. But there's no tracin

I see the place in the flow. I'm beyond dawn,

No I'm not in the lawn under pawns -

Don't rest, never possessed stagnate magnets.

I never pulled slits lips wit no braille skilled eyes -

Balls through eyesockets. I'm currently current

Currents of electricity; They can't get wit me

Invisible to the retina half - way reality part limbo.

A nervous laugh while ya climbin through windows,

Never spin ho's on merry-go-rounds,

Be the ground level for ghouls, schools of fish,

Victims on a hit list me like Geronimo on a pratt -

Tackle patt tacklin patterns addin in seasonings, flavor.

No false teeth for beef, catapulting fingers to light

Switches so you can see the real, I feel the tension

My sight twitches - I'm bent.

Second Scene: I'm the star in a step show

Around corners, the coroner's office;

Where my rep grows. I'm on some sort of drug

Like the President, it's evident that I'm noid,

A little bit of pizza - the riddle gets deeper.

I'm lookin for outs n ins, stolen isotonas,

The gloves, the bout begins three jabs on a transport

It's a sport for me to take another life on landing,

Branding wit a prattle prod designed by God.

It's my job to resign frauds,

The odd is against you got a degree in me,

So I know that I flow, credentials are essential -

It's blasphemy the type of shit they be askin me.

I don't feel the vibe, abstract art the veal

Doesn't heal this deprived stomach from a plummet.

Swinging on a duet with the bullet.

I never pull out for suspense - I'm on a bent mission.

Jack Cousteau couldn't take it no deeper -

I'm a resident in Davey Jones micro-locker

Holds the phone, foamin at the mouth:

Mad Dog, a taste, never had hog I'm droppin

The scrooge, makin fools hit the log - axe it.

I seen it beneath where the cowards hope

Trembled sleeper see if you can find the lost

Treasure through measures in bars - I'm bent.

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