I don't fear the labour check the dirt beneath the finger nails sweat stained shirt, and amnesia when talking the word fail you can't feign the fame yet they fan the flame so i train my brain / in the tiger snake and crane / the more wisdom, the less gained if measured down to the change the kind that jingles in your pocket and that which rings within yourself(?) during the evenings, around sunset, i get flashes from past memories serves up a slideshow, like a wide eyed nocturnal rain forest creature old country kid in the city for the very first time, i'm hypnotized by the soft glow in my mind's silver screen, ready to sit back and recognize the sequence of events, that led me here although the way they're presented will play like a dream surreal as a painted desert condemned to wander, through as an immortal, accompanied by nothing other than my footprints you can only make so many before the storms form and erase the way that you came forced to do it again come take a trip, down memory lane my? more like a pot-hole riddled highway, divided into four sections save social business and stay with it, and these potholes i'm down to fix it i don't fear the labor, check the dirt beneath the finger nails sweat stained shirt, and memory lapse when it comes to the meaning of fail you can't feign the fame, game is to train my brain in the tiger snake and crane incase i got to fend off them raps, snap like bear traps, besides that it's a better form of meditation than other methods i'm aware of and deserves my dedication even when I'm not makin records i aid in my music's preservation exercising vigilance watching for poachers and posers supposedly could be the opposition listen that's the sound when i drop words to rhythm nod in my direction, we going this way been collected to help correct the foul play our magnetism will leave your compa** in disarray (disarray) intuition; into telepathy when we speak, you imagine me act like I'm talking that voice in your head has my accent indistinguishable (low rumbleee) I'd whisper work it for the world, hurled through space at the speed of speech, blast off! lookin like a slacker, wander like a prophet, labeled as a rapper for lack of, something else to call it i tend to return myself to the cycle upon his request(?) but best when i'm at my worst like an alcoholic no longer faultered by the force and not opposed, to thinkin awkward beamin off on a random uncharted course, like a lost photon caravan seeking a retina, still attached to a person to validate my excursion i'm just another incarnation of you, that's the reason we can move to this in unison and if you choose find a leader to take me to