Artist: Saafir the Saucee Nomad
Album: Boxcar Sessions
Song: 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 sk**ed 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 sh** 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