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letra de icarus initiative (fire by the river) - mood cru

[moud-e]

everything has a price, flayed hohenheim wit light, christ on the ice entice
i’ll shoot em up at night, needle pointin flesh suffice
ala carte some different vice, a verse a crypt for any knights
heh, nights like these we flicker mics, spark the garden till she bites, anaconda wants it thrice
deny me once, i got dikes, dig the ooey gooey right, we’ll be drownin in phaedrus’ paradise, what is life?
we done it all before, i bore of ouroboros abhorrents, torrent to watch the storm
the lore is shoe-horned to lobotomize the hordes we adore
lycanthropic lords turning schizophrenic over ores
ignore, all attempts at faith will get erased
double plus on the goods till it’s only newspeak that you lace
wars are now commonplace, big brother necessitates the hate
eternal sunshine of the addled mind, focus got effaced
dilapidated temples puncture, sculpt the ragged wh-r-s of culture, greenery is in their orchard
guard the urns as torches plunder, pluck her rose until she blossoms, function follows form, formal doctrines ducked martyrs
ain’t no difference to me, it’s easy, breathing apathy if you wanna stop to read
at a loss chockin on the eve of ease, the f-ck you mean i need a good reason to be

[kaydus]

hip-hops haunted by pacs conscience
then we got the gods, ghouls, and goblin
rules of life, recite ya vice
or write jehovah’s own poltergeist

swords ‘nd quills, unfamiliar feels
mirror the real, or deliva us still
sartre thought of nausea so i sought to be ill
morph’ll press me a purple pill

bluff on a b-st-rd, the crux of my rapture
fallen in the arms of an audio actor
accidents matter, lest an asterisk after
madness sew my fabric seems il-adverts workin backwards

chronomadic rabbits marchin’ murder ya craft
pen’s swung past, oms laughin’ at last
djinn know the ballad of the indigo draag
sinh below a m-ss, sole symbols of wraith

foes don’ know that i’m flow afflicted
third eye crows, but do i feel lifted?
brimstone thrones in my ethereal vision
sultans of volition, spreadin’ surreal fiction

surface taken solace, in the wake of the dormant
calf on the tortoise so devoid of his orbit

viziers gamble oceans as a play for the mourned ish
laymen of the streets layin bricks for their torment

- mood cru

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