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letra de out the marshes! - deadpan

[verse 1: deadpan]
the arc of history caved in on the fascist apologists
great, great, great land-selling ancestors are cashing in posthumous
generations of worsening praxis, but the burn and crash is anomalous
would tell a liberal, “suck my d-ck,” but it’s at its number of maximum occupants
vapid acknowledgments, hat tip to the unfortunate survivors you profit off
sad isn’t impoverished; cried ally and let your floral-printed rockets launch
then the cops were called ‘cause the scorched earth singed your plastic palms
look in the mirror, the state we’re in isn’t stalin’s fault
lament thе lack of modesty from marble mansion steps
framе of reference f-cked; the baby’s bed’s a platinum bassinet
stand and stretch; shrug as the cancerous rancor is vast and spreads
mass unrest; didn’t forget your rebuffs of our past amends
taught your man to fish for praise but never let him cast a net
didn’t cl!ck for you as your resident band was clapping its castanets
deep down, you know the problem’s you, i see through your glassy flesh
you can hide all you want, but less pain always begets a faster death
[verse 2: akunna]

[verse 3: deadpan]
a weapon’s only staving harm if that’s how its maker fashioned it
indiscriminate carnage cutting the slack ‘til all the fat is trimmed
cyclical patterns stitched into the fabric of all inhabitants
measured waste was the catalyst, start panicking
muckraking the marshes for the corrupted among the lavishness
troubling lack of doubling back ‘til it fits becoming hazardous
spilled acid, washed down to the genes, inanimate blundering
gaffes, barely managing
tony larussa, sample flips like ash when the batter jacked the pitch
broken the rules of producing and chicken-scratching a bit of classic sh-t
skipping their sharpening, cardinal sinning, rapping flatter and stiffer than m-n-script
underground worlds in the songs, deadpan’s labyrinth
don’t fawn over these losers’ false ass narratives
they all break even, moderate, medium, and half average
steppingstones stretched over these sodden and d-mned passages
only a fraction of the travelers on the path are built for this
scaffold the track, ravage it, dilapidated and pilfered it
stock symbol is crashed, product cast into the whim of the past, mass capitalist pilgrimage
gaming the system, not pocket-watching the face of it
made it to the prophet’s cherished shrine, but perished at the base of it
salvation was so attainable, you were adamant you tasted
but you died defending those barriers while i was breaking ‘em
i was breaking ‘em
i was breaking sh-t
i was breaking sh-t
so obsessed with the trek that they forgot what the destination is
the choir sang an elegy while you were facing it
meet the maker, i directed and orchestrated it

- deadpan

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