What a beautiful world, so fragile and fertile Pain filled the void when boy met girl He's a puppet to nature, one year later Now so deeply and sickly
I'll be writing till I'm dead or maybe till I'm alive All the emptiness I've bled has only helped me survive Something melted inside when the tones hit
them hands, people (Push em up now!) [Abilities] (overlapping Eyedea) Push it up now! Push it up now! Push it up, push it up now! [Eyedea] What
We bringing it back to basics Situated under the basement The nation is garunteed To hit the pavement You slept, now your bobbing your head So hard you
were here to bring the people and the music and the movement all together now we see through repetitive etiquette and the highly unoriginal were here
[Eyedea] I got a little story to tell See it was September 1st, 1999, the day of my death My back was on the cold concrete as I take my last breath Saw
I'm here to break my own ball and chain Holding the plight to be completely sane Nothings to gain if image blocks the only chance for change When I expand
It starts out with a question. How much of it is real? The skepticism sets in, and lessens your appeal Next, you study conspiracy, develop some theories
Days turn into years. "A" students turn into dropouts Seeing the world from a creative angle turns into seeing it from a couch Orgasms become lifetimes
[Eyedea] Why they always looking at me, like there's something on my face man No matter where I go, I'm always feeling out of place And I know I'm not
I could vividly recall my mood the day that art was murdered The wind blew a thin layer of dust on my garden bird Everything you knew was sideways and
[background] And now the voice in your head IS yours [Eyedea] Take a deep breath there's nothing to be afraid of What you just did was fall to the depths
I never knew my mom, once I was born she was dead She never wanted me. At least that's what my dad said He said she was polluted, ignorant, uncivilized
No one really understands the experience that change lives That pave an agnostic a place to lay in decay in toxic waste So most every identity paraphernalia
this is a big fuck you to anyone out there that hates us it aint my fault you fail to recognize what great is if you weren't so caught up in who you dick
ha ha... ha ha... ha haa?¦ it is kind of a funny story He lives in a four by two glass box It reminds me of my head I wish my floor would have rocks,
[Eyedea] If someone grew up in a cubicle as Plato once suggested They would only know the cubicle and not the world outside it And they wouldn't view