For Days on End

[Verse]
Yeah, I've been watching how it all goes down
I got my sleeves folded
About to give a mystical brown to make the heat smoulder
Devine aroma like a China stick
[?] is got you in a comma, dead beat counterfeit
I got your soul lit, on fire like a [?] less race
Serotonin amid to blow, ultraviolet
How I shine solar ray
Bipolar mic holder spit colder than the average spin bowler
See my face in a dartboard
Dark lord, black sheep under that mapped out in the tripod
Bend over since the rebirth so preserve
The symbol is a rye of a tidal, trojan horse your idol
Rehearse like a ballplayer
Somebody hold the hands of time
Speed dial a watchmaker
Retreat with the catalogue of scripture if you gotta kick the real
The candle flicker, slow-burn chill
Let my mind's finger paint you a picture
In a lingering winter during the solstice
In the '81, my mother delivered me to the earth like it was God's work
Visualise the artwork like ornamental engraving in clockwork
Miraculous [?] without a cosign
Moonlit veil shining off the midnight sun
The night of the wolves
Angels [?] tripped when he walk there
Warfare from the first day, give me some ironware
Life's never been a bed of roses
The enemy is ferocious diagnosis [?] ate the lotus
If we finally retaliate the barbarous oppression
Nobody is privileged to choose the manner or the weapon
Scavage, telling [?] people "Behave"
When they never had a choice on whether or not they should be slaves
Leaders are the brave, [?] manipulators
Opulence of sick bigotry, foul, criminal, calculated
Evil begets so you get what you give
Many nights, cold sweats, day shivers and chills
When I think about what it really means to be free
Or how it really feels especially the highest degree
Wanna grow old, lavish as Italian Barrack
On a piece of an estate that's fit for Otto Bizmark
In full health, Peruvian [?]
And play "Blues For A Hip King"
And [?] for the patriarchs
Humming in the distance, the sounds of the clarinet
As my hair grey like the ashes of a cigarette
And when my life is smoked what remains is a silhouette
I'm going out with a bang like a shock of a pistol wind