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letra de higher planes - aeronautics

[verse 1]
i’m tryna tip-toe between the rails of my own chronology
plunged upon a path that don’t align with me, i follow
so solemnly, ‘cause f-ck if in this seventeen-hour window
i can even begin, to address the chagrin i’m condemned to
i got four projects on the go, comprising roughly half a whole
the other half i’m tryna grab a hold upon the glass dome
like grandpa joe, but its snozzberry pie in the sky
inclined to ditch the climb but visions of i, up
in the phantom, blacked out, viewing through the glass darkly
smoking cross will o’ the-wisp, with mephistopheles
that’s oxymoronic but yet chronic to all my night scenes
writing reams, trying to bring life to all my pipe dreams
glottal stop, where’s the f-ckin master plan that’s promised, what
i been asking satchidananda, the mahdi, prophets from
the world over, looking to jethro and feeling thick as a brick
like the astronomer in an old melies fl!ck
pretend i wish the dove had never delivered that olive stick
but tryna reach eleven madison’s roulade of babel fish
ridiculous, my deaf ears catching advice of listeners
if the church is running empty are the words still scriptures?
f-ck that, let the devil wear black
my glare pale like the dane and i’m staring right back, but
through what? i can’t tell between the blinds of a masonic lodge
or since the six-day war, a hectic wall street mardi gras
the ivory towers feel a sting, but yet my play still miss the mark
i’m one of a kind when the flop foretells it, but somebody here has been clipping cards
but it’s the leviathan, see this is what we pay for life
until my story ends like josef k., with a cerrated knife
[verse 2]
well
back to the nitty gritty, long time little viddy
i’d like to thank sober me for building this sample city
so when i roll up i can plug in like ect
and add my crunchy frequency to the funkiest vst
so, doomed to fail are those who conflate a lack of focus
with a desire to only rap the dopest magnum opus
ecclesiastical my church tests like the acts of job did
so searching ’til i’m old and worthless that’s the modus oper-
-andi, and i been seeking since then
seeking to understand the game that they ain’t never let me win
thinking my ancestors must’ve never confessed for their sins
or they were nephilims and balaam, their impressions of him
they beckon me. but it’s hard to even picture the thirst
to put aside my pride with lion heart like richard i
’cause kierkegaard told me to tremble and dismiss my last urge
and the gita said bhakti is the specie krishna deserves, but til then
sharing wealth, comparing sk!ll, both for you a rare h-ll
’cause if we’re going bid for bid you’re not looking to fare well
a mosaic of meditations in my lair, where dwells
the mother mind, all covered by enough gas to scare sh-ll

- aeronautics

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