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letra de taking charlie on a glass elevator - werd (sos)

can we reset this reality?
i don’t believe in the big bang
(i don’t believe in the big bang)
check…

fly in a sp-cecraft
i craft fae words
no witchcraft, it’s which craft i choose to surf
audio waves is my way to purge
all those earthly thoughts that hold back us
huh, elton musk eat your heart out
never spent a billion but a million thoughts i drew
open up doors, in my mind too
seeing lives and a goddess that i once knew
moving. on. up
past the stars, quasars, n such
see metal birds fart fire to thrust
from a glass elevator still moving on up
then it comes to a halt
first new planet i see has all ya’ll
earth point 2, but few points to point out
everyone at peace, no priests or bad news
(nah)
hmm, guess technology flew
no investing in wars, so they cured us all
no poor at all nor no lack of food
d-mn, kind of what we should do (yeah)
in my head is a journey
need no map or survey
just need thoughts to budge me
elevate evolve i’ll be back by thursday
in my head is a journey (huh)
need no map or survey
elevate my mind and burn me
organic vessel is only what huds me…

‘sons of scotland’

[texture]
the caduceus is a möbius strip, verbs trip
off the tip of my lips, anatomically
accelerator mass spectrometry
air guitar, anatolian shephardry
bird flu raps, electronica, as i riff vividly
infotainment, k!lling fields
post-traumatic misery
non-euclidian trickery

i’m in this to kick it wickedly
(as if you can’t tell)
everything about this place and this life
making me duller than a b-tter knife
was gonna glance at the stars
but f-ck me this gutter’s nice
(this gutter’s pretty good man)
(this gutter’s nice)
the trace of faceless ages wasted
just another ten percenter
part of generation atheist
turns out all my heroes are problematic rapists
like neil degrasse tyson
inappropriate on sp-ceships
can’t take the pace
hold my drink while i paint my face like a f-cking racist
f-ck your friends and who you came with
(god d-mn)
might be a recovering nihilist
but i bought a ticket for the last utopia
werd said ‘bring some rhymes along’
so i brought a cornucopia
apologetic polymath
black hole, heir of the cursed
a mulatto, an albino
out of the sky, into the dirt
let’s see who goes down first
the biggest motherf-ckers get burst
cassandra with a prophet’s caution
weaving metaphors in torsion
reverse engineer the pattern out
from the distortion
i’m too busy listing all the f-cks i won’t give ‘em
f-ck ‘em if they can’t take a joke, or won’t listen
texture and werd shine like black diamonds dripping
from the thickest gold ribbons, (gold ribbons)
this broke aesthetic is broken britain
what’s up man, how you living?
(how you living?)
peace to the black lantern clan
sons of scotland
papillon on the beat
(salem)
this is not pop

- werd sos

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