Ill Kid Format - The 8th Plain lyrics

[SuperTanzi] Pack my sh** into a briefcase And say peace for 3 days As I take note of each raindrop So as to guide my path across The same plot of desert land I kneel to praise God With the palms of my weathered hands A better man is what I strive on But now I gotta keep my mind on the 8th plain So as to maintain A state of balance That's why my feet are mad callous From walking through the sands of animosity and malice I came back with mental prowess To grasp what I couldn't reach It's like imagine thoughts without the faculty of speech So my man Nietz-sche once beseeched me To move past the grasp of anything beneath me Son its easy to wallow in the false bliss Material things could make one miss All the beauty and kinda ill sh** you could experience If your hearing this then let it f**ing bang out I put my words down now I can hang out In the p.m. of rap I be the deacon So pay attention of the words that I'm speaking [BMAN] Bridges must be burned After the lesson is learned It's so easy to attach to your past But only the tightest of clasps Begin to relax Once they realize the facts That even a friend will stab you in the back In this power struggle To reign supreme we must dream of this thing That is the most obscene and do it Living is just a side effect of a drug called consciousness Double your dose and pa** into ambience A state of being where your seeing what your breathing And your heaving cause your not believing its air And yet without breath you remain alive Breathing was just a waste of time This chaos is a gift from the Gods The immortal moment, the eternal scar A rip in the quilt on the bed of existence Revealing underneth just a heap of coincidence The instance we let go of our resistence We got blind and resent our curious minds We found too many words and we find to much thinking So let's simplify and get back to drinking