Alcohol, Valium, a little green, uppers, downers, caffeine, some nicotine. Yeah my records clean, I just dipped it in some Listerine. Call me Mister Sheen, yer local dole office libertine. Methadone, Mescaline, Methamphetamine, Methadrone - meow meow like the cat that got the cream. Cream: cunts rule everything around me. I'm just chasing pussy, yes my curiosity is keen. But it's killing me - stretched out like a limousine, little man, sipping lifes lemonade is bitter sweet. After killing a kilogram of fill in the blanks ya philistine. Opium milkshakes fresh off the boat from the Philippines. Lose my head - daily visit to the guillotine, reflect on if that reflection in the mirror's me. Mindset Byzantine - filled with vicious visions and wicked dreams - but no lucidity.
Spend my days with a woman like me, smoking blue cheese and drinking chai tea. Highly likely, you'll find me high in pipe dreams. Hash pipe, glazed-over glass eyes penning a ripe scheme. Constructing two hour joints like Spike Lee. My girl nagging - just do it - like Nike. After too many decidedly dicey nights themed with unsightly-type scenes I feel as if my bloods poison like Ivy. Hook me up to an IV drip - this trip is too lively.
Life being life - is kinda really shite, sat on the couch on that anaemic vibe. From the ashes of my hashish watch the phoenix rise. Mask slips off the real disguise, now i'm feeling like: Drugs are the road to destruction - believe the hype. But fuck it, at least it's a scenic drive...
Flying high...in the friendly sky...without ever leaving the ground.
Acid, Opium, Barbiturates. A seemingly limitless, almost infinite amount of stimulants. Listlessly listening to the dissonant, rhapsodic instruments, melodically spasmodic. My logic's myopic, my biopic's psychotic. My rooms clogged in, fumes toxic. I'm neurotic, a few swallows of hard tonic, fly into a bubonic plague of rage, induced by narcotics. Washing out my mouth with a bar of carbolic soap, microscopic scope is a large problem. Lost in the cracks on the ceiling, staring till my soul goes stale. When I leave the room, I leave a ghost's trail. Inhale until my skins pale, tall tales told to prevail cold jails - details hold bail. As we grow old and oh so stale, tryna get feeling from my words, but they ain't written in no braille.
Unaccustomed to dodging customs at the border line, ain't the road that's tripping – travelling through different states of mind. I thought this state sublime – but all disintegrates with time. Until you chase your mind, chasing time. Like an astronaut's vision – staring into space, incubate thoughts of my inner-state. Interbate reality to gradually stimulate me into realizing that I'm in a state. Awake, I shake, my fake, self to take the consideration my limitations are soon to break.
My cocoon it cracks – in a womb of candle wax, in a room of shallow facts, consumed in the contents of the spoon I lapse. Life in time lapse, my grasp only slips. My eyes have trouble focusing. Flying high in the friendly sky, without noticing, my broken wings.
credits
from BRAIN MATTER,
released February 29, 2016
Words and Music by TH!NK.
The debut, solo LP from TH!NK. Funk, Jazz, Psychedelia and Golden Age Boom Bap combine to make a kaleidoscopic, multi-layered and entertaining palette for insightful lyrical acrobatics. TH!NK
