paroles de chanson Crimson - Asm

Now for a futher complication

It's going down Sonny Liston
Diction smoother that Lonnie Liston Smith
Bring friction to respiratory systems
Air tight with the metaphor depictions that's a given
Like leaving little kittens all smitten

With physical-mind balance
Mystical like Alice Coltrane
Cold train, cold rain precipitation status
Dark talons grip the trident like Poseidon
Strange glow on the cusp of the horizon

The mind slaughter on the map
Pouring wax smoothies, seeking pins
Sneaky clip bumped 'til the speakers ripped
Funk from the lips to the hips to the K Swiss hand-me-downs

Sandy brown suede with the off white trim, fat laces
Wrong place with 'em, bring 'em home still grim
Caked with the bronze clay from the park pitch by the gym
Helicopter high, twin blade propellor, hella live
Stracciatella mozzarella 'til i die

When we landed on this planet first deciphered all the language
And coded our own to feed the banquet from the lizard brain
Neat scotch and cocaine
Found the main vein syphoned the source of no pain

Magnificent, oscillate from peace to belligerent
Illiterate ignorants get their ligaments torn, yo be vigilant
Most comparison of false equivalence
Omnipotent scripts pick Jerusalem Thorns

Blowing up like dynamite
Tiger striped, bison wild, mighty Maik
Python grip, viper bite, render crews to trilobites
When he moves the iron eyes, turn the moon to fireflies
Love it if you love it like a philophile

Passionately ride or die, Jider, Sly and High-Ku style, why surprised?
Keep it ancient AF, Deus on a bible vibe
Time is nigh, taking over all your tubes and Spotify
Bottom like, modify the origins of modern life

The city under siege from a flock of Starlings
As the murmuration now mesmerizes the weak
In the 20th Arrondissement we pour bottles in our sleep
Razor clam for table 5
Not a soul left alive for ministry
The synergy of imagery that lingers to infinity plus

And bust millimeter accurate artillery zings
Amongst articulated similes of trivial things like
Suede-brimmed snapbacks, pure premium
Believe me when I oscillate from deviant comedian
To high like helium, uh-huh, to holy medium
To keeper of a nonchalant Athenian bohemian

Here ripe for the plucking
And a dozen Fine de Clair No 3, son, ripe for the shucking
Spit game at em like, do you come here often?
Then premature demise like Philip Seymour Hoffman

Uh, killer hornet stinger forward soaring towards the chorus
Touring, pouring every quart of vocal cord performance in
Sing songs for Singaporeans and klick for Klingons
The clan make the crowd clap, the roaring of the audience

What do you hear?
I hear the water
I hear the birds
Do you hear your own heartbeat?

No
Old man
How is it that do you hear these things?
Young man, how is it that you do not?