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The Horror

from Escape Goats by Finn Martin

/

lyrics

What time is it?
Yo, Ev-G, what time is it?

YO

start the clock countdown the seconds
calm yourselves then pass out the rations
farm or not we remain here planted
in caskets make it all stop because we've had it

I think of the horror seething seasoned in greed
another weeping willow left bleeding in the breeze
like a shiver, the cold breath of winter
running down your neck like the sweat from a sprinter

I eat rhymes for dinner, philosophy for dessert
mind delivers the images till l trip and hit the dirt
i miss the hurt, i miss the pain of loving
shoving to the front just to let em know I'm coming

I’m running and jumping ducking and diving
arriving at the show down nine lives and still smiling
grab a hold and blow until the flame goes out and
put a torch to every single thing I ever wrote down

I gotta stay on top of this apocalypse to stop a fist
and drop the hits on modern kids who bother with this columnist
i try to dissect matter to shatter the chatter and batter rappers
that get full off my pen and ink platters

i think it matters to me that I speak to splatter the weak
and i lift my stamina's peak rapping over sick beats
from the second she sent me the message to let me know
she left me alone i let it be known I'm sending a clone

start the clock countdown the seconds
arm yourselves then hand out the weapons
calm or not we’re no longer passive
in caskets make it all stop before we blast shit

I send her a letter littered with letters that better
let her know I'm veteran to these sensitive poems
plotting overthrow in the comfort of my own home
plan focused on the senators home throne

I’m in it to win it second to minute to minute
slip up and your finished pwnd at your own game of cribbage
sinning is winning ahead in the seventh inning
it’s pin heads pretty pin ups steadily levitating

making millions of little tiny skin cuts
piss drunk playing in the rain with your lips shut
four stroke shock paddles get you going quick
annoyed at how your peers treat you now they know your going limp

when your lips are loose you get to pick and choose
whether you win or lose make sure you get the goose
and grin and bare it tiger blood winning champion
spinning madly waxing moon fishing crappy

backwards in my chair pissing tragedy
on everyone who cares all of the sudden we feel bad to leave?
the damage to our planet we've caused is sheer madness
we eat shit fuck like a bunch of rabid rabbits

sit down and think about it for a minute
is this what you gotta do in order to win it?
belligerent bricks bashing brass bullet babies
desperately craving depraved tactical cravings

setup late in the situation room
this vacation doomed economic inflation too soon
and then it pops!

kaboom!

no one left to swoon
or watch the clock counts down our doom

start the clock countdown the seconds
calm yourselves then pass out the rations
start the clock countdown the seconds
arm yourselves then hand out the weapons

start the clock countdown the seconds
arm yourselves then hand out the weapons
calm or not we’re no longer passive
in caskets make it all stop before we blast shit

I compose these grammatical flows
to batter my foes and shatter my woes
with sporadical prose we scatter the bones
then smoke hysterical bowls of cannabis oils
and other exotic chaotic mind antibiotics

our own people they try to slow us
play chance like we're dice and they roll us
throw us to the dogs like a little bit of table scrap
and they gonna keep on doing it till we take this cradle back

start the clock countdown the seconds
arm yourselves then hand out the weapons
calm or not we’re no longer passive
in caskets make it all stop before we blast shit

credits

from Escape Goats, released December 1, 2012

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Finn Martin

I write raps and get rekt.

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