What does your soul look like?
I bet it’s a lot like mine,
I bet you’ve tried a thousand times,
To correct the imperfections, and to purify.
But strife keeps finding you, life just takes its toll.
Reminding you that you’re just guts n’ bones.
I know,
That I am just as cold.
That I have poked holes in boats,
And sank ships of gold.
Stripped and stole, pride and glory
At every opportunity.
I could be a hedonist,
Imbibe in every orifice to alleviate the sickness.
I could go ballistic.
Deconstruct and untwist.
Curl up a fist, throw it at the bricks,
And hope they give in.
I could be a sadist.
Sociopathic and hated.
I could be the smartest person that you ever met.
The most articulate and poetic.
The perfectly twisted serpent whose truth you resist.
animusvox:

I don’t think you get it. I live this.
Within limitless labyrinths and self-imprisonment.
Although I am infinite,
This physical shit
Is a little bit twisted.
And a little materialistic.
And I get a little nihilistic
When the Maya kicks in.
But the mystic still sits,
And guides every step.
You see,
I was blessed by the architect with an impartial lens.
Your true intentions and impressions
Are expressed in gestures and ticks.
And I am fluent,
In the language of your anguish.
And I will take it,
You need not carry it with.

Satan:

Before we start
Let me speak from the heart
Trash receptacle flow
Waste management
I'm juking through hoes
Try to find a way
To make it all work
Before I feel my heart burst
Likely to die young
In a big ass house
I'll go out bangin your spouse
Change my name to Clause
Spit verses in German
My lyrics vois heist
Look a little deeper and you'll find our message is steeper
Than the Rocky Mountains
Actin like a creeper while I peep her
Thinkin bout the booty all day
Tryin not to get paid
But a slick ride
And some food for the homies
Sounds pretty nice
Not lookin for the million
Just some stability
But soon they all gonna see
Midnight mosh will be runnin these streets
They sold they're soul to me
Satan O G
And now it's time to see
That talents what's in
Not actin like a little kid
Whining about what daddy did
Or bragin about your money.
Cause my flows so sick
I'll steal your honey