This is the most basic sound from the deeper underground ..... emotions are bound by one single meaning .... valid and profound ...... the story of unbecoming ... and relentless nightmarish juxtaposition .... without any obligation .... the song for the cold cold heartless maniacs ... carrying out yet another cardiacs ... so brace yerself and pretend an arrest .... by the tempest ... the fortress of misfortunes ... abducted by a buncha loony tunes ...

 

 

I start so slow
as to avoid any shortcomings
Carefully I select the words
So as to come to a meaning
I don't want this to turn out what I hate
Just a tide of lines without meaning what they say
It's not style but it's the substance
Anything else is bleak in its absence
I can't lose my sight I need some order
I understand it now when I hear Mike Shinoda
He sings " I hate my rhyme But I hate everyone else's more"
This doesn't happen to me that I'm for sure
Verses proliferate with metaphorical crimes
How could I tell you to read between the lines
For evry poem I've woven they are my song
If I had a guitar I could've played it all along
My moments of ecstacy, anger and desperate time
Screaming blood after blood and roughly soaked in lime
Yet when I hear someone in my ears whistling a tune
From a faraway shore blinded by love and misfortune
So many lines I wish they could've been mine
I'd 've savoured them till the moment I turn blind
You look into a soul how they've survived so far
Rhymes that are so pure lying on sacred altar
Yet I remember Mike again as I start to give in
"Trying to be genuine was harder than it seems,
Somehow I got caught up in between"