That One Chair In The Basement

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We work so hard at night,

Ever replacing the bulbs of the potent lamp-lights.

The veins of wires oxidize

what the paper and the pen gaze upon when they shit their eyes.

The paper waits in silence on the desk-top,

And then screams when the pen make the ink drop.

The letters are slipping down the page and the war we wage

is trapped in the cage of the microphone and interface.

In our rooms but our souls in a different place,

The lucid pioneers that struggle to wake.

The mission is clear but unavoidably opaque,

Feel the room tremor the floor cracks from mental earthquakes,

We ain’t had success yet, will we descend or ascend?

We ain’t afraid we see the devil every time we lyrically re-offend,

We’re just writing the apparitions that you all attend,

An apprehensive desire just to comprehend life. 

We apprehend.

An apprehensive desire just to comprehend.

We apprehend.

An apprehensive desire just to comprehend.

Why do we write? to bring change to what we don’t believe in,

So i admire everybody that the world’s concealing,

In collective basements with collective feeling,

But voices are overlooked when they’re under the ceiling.

When everything is in order for the very few,

We’re bottom feeding on the falsities of elite truth

and so i’m leading those willing into the MC booth,

To teleport and transcend our commonplace view.

Everything we achieve is alright

as long as we understand that the end ain’t in sight.

This one chair in the basement

inhabits all my life.

Every time i stand up i feel weak

because when i’m sitting and writing my strength hits its peak.

This one chair in the basement,

Full of life even though it looks bleak.

The legs on my chair wobble,

The weight of the world on my shoulders makes me hobble in and out of world squabbles,

I’m trying not to topple,

So forgive me if i grab you by the throat and subject you to a slight throttle.

I’ve been staring at the screen so long my visions pixelated,

Everything i see has been amalgamated.

Separately, each square is bosselated

and new meaning consequently accentuated. 

These walls are my laboratory,

And my imagination is my observatory,

Pasted walls with lyrics an introspective sanctuary

where there’s no such thing as a lyrical actuary.

I’m in a comatised state of awakeness,

Because i only feel alive in opaqueness,

No time for the fakeness reality is dark

but if we shine a light on this we can pull the pigments apart.

If we shine a light on this we can pull the pigments apart.

Reality is dark.

But if we shine a light on this we can pull the pigments apart.

To have a life now what does that really mean?

Because we’re all living and most of us ain’t living the dream,

But still we live in hope of finding fish in desolate streams,

So we can die knowing our life was everything we hoped it’d be. 

Everything we achieve is alright

as long as we understand that the end ain’t in sight.

This one chair in the basement

inhabits all my life.

Every time i stand up i feel weak

because when i’m sitting and writing my strength hits its peak.

This one chair in the basement,

Full of life even though it looks bleak.

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