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letra de seasons through pen's ascension - sketch tha cataclysm

the pen that i grip, stutters as if
it struggles with its breath, the ink its hugging is clenched
lowering its alt-tude, it comes from its lips and just
spills on the page as it touches its tip
the function is this: to let it rain on this sh-t
from the pain of living, stain the page with rage which’ll give
nourishment to flourish, flower currents within
and flood with color spiral bound cages its in

when the ink runs warm, it sketches its heaven
just to give the heart a comfort setting to rest in
the message at present, enjoy all the presents
life could give you when the sun is beating reflection
in the tide of your life, the pens reminder of strife
is strong winds across the fault line when blinded by light
the sun shines in, the tides take its life
the pen rides its pen man ship and sails off in the night

the pen comes in with the oncoming breeze
ship travels north, enjoys the colors it leaves
the birds fly away, the sun slowly recedes
the ink runs with cooler thoughts and gets a chill when it bleeds
the colors its seen, crumble with ease
its flourishing is fleeting and its summer’s a dream
despite the clouds forming overhead, man it seems
the inks pouring, pens floundering to burst at the seams

burning its logs, so you could see when it breathes
the fires inside, the weathers chilling the scene
the waters have slowed, the flow continues beneath
bringing a new sheet of white the pen could touch with its feet
to start a new path, but then came a wheeze
its climbing in its alt-tude and struggles to breathe
i loosen my grip, it slows what comes from its lips
a gasp, a lisp, my pen stutters as if. . . . . . . . . . .

- sketch tha cataclysm

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