Dälek - ...From Mole Hills lyrics

Basic blocks to breath topple under bare bleeding feet Wince at stabbing pain in left lobe as mighty sword's unsheathed Source of all life lies in East, the source of all life lies in East. Feel the rumble of them bombed trains, third railed from beneath I walk with tattered scrolls on these ill lonely streets Babble last true tongue, could give a f** where you from Travel torn path, swung as pendulum Now my thread of life's come undone Remember back when Uzi's weighed a ton? Now ever kid's got one. Dipped in platinum bathed in aggression Succumb to last temptation Lost all my patience Peace to last bastion: Afrika... Zulu nation. Lyrics laced with oils from inner works of mental reservoir The world in ill discord Pray to ancient ancestors Pray to ancient ancestors. Remember days of cardboard, fat lace, and krylon? Microphones and twelves, tools we all relied on n***as dropped a verse, the thought was one to die on I remember hip hop, that's my Mt. Zion. Bygones be bygones so many souls wore thin My world lies in famine, I wander with kinsmen Through dismal slums of ignorance Wash my hands in pool of absolution Keep warm with torn blanket of revolution Quite useless shut one's eyes once realized You glide through this darkness Embark upon this, solom crusade to save the only gift our God gave The curse is manmade, designed to turn blessed to slaves Forgave the weak minded two weeks into journey Again travel untraveled road on scrapped knee Broke bread with those bums who taught speech In attempt to reach nirvana Ye of poor karma, None calmer in old age, young sage turn page on brittle text There's no time left What must I stress? Demons colorless, infest our own earth Immersed in tainted dirt Could never quite quench my own thirst for ancient drums There lies a language in the noise and the hum Prepare for martyrdom, prepare for martyrdom I speak that ancient tongue There lies a language in (the noise and the hum) Remember days of cardboard, fat lace, and krylon? Microphones and twelves, tools we all relied on n***as dropped a verse, the thought was one to die on I remember hip hop, that's my Mt. Zion. Lost equilibrium, wish I fell to '85 Verbal vagabond blessed for being blind Etched my paradigm in Sanskrit at age nine So why these kids swear to God I'm unrefined? Still swig from sacred liquid language Poor as f** but seem to manage Non average urban savage You living lavish when this world is pure survival Best you hide in the corners of your mind for sitting idle Breathing air is vital, You pray to false idols No feelings in recitals when you only search for titles Feel so suicidal, but couldn't give you joy. Four elements of this only for the B-boys (B-girls)