Shrouded in darkness, his eyes like the stars in the sky
Hard to describe but recognized from the scars on his hide
Deep and hideous but do not not pity us, or our affiliates
We get really deep into the meat, exposing idiots
The truth comes to light, but sometimes it’s too bright
This is life, eternal fight just to try and do it right
An approach that’s assiduous, connective just like MIDI is
A matter of convenience more stress, like the city is
I ain’t city kid, come from the other side of town
Been a foreigner, I stood and I took a look around
Trying to master my surroundings, trying keep my spirit grounded
Trying to keep my goals unbounded, trying to finalize my sound
But it’s finite, the grind might, lead me to the pine box
It’s fine art, but still use my hands, like it’s sign talk
Sign off, final transmission from the field of dreams
I build through means, without the profit, altered logic, Celestine
Seldom seen, selling magic beans on the dark web
Plant, add water, watch ‘em grow in your own head
Gon’ head, times are critical, the warning’s on red
False Prophets on the corner, spinning lies, daddy long legs
I’ve long said, ‘My end is near’, but here I am, the long stretch
Wrong neck of the woods, on a path, taking the wrong steps

Lost wanderer, spell conjurer, mic conqueror
Return of the minotaur, the quintessential ponderer
Incremental sacrifice, slowly slice away ya life
Ya played with dice, snake eyes, now I guess ya pay the price
I prayed for rights of those who every day they have to raise & fight
Day and night, modern man’s version of the canaanites
Each page write covers lots of ground, it’s the age of ice
Aging nice, kept it down-n-dirty like some cajun rice
Stages / Lights make me feel confined like some caged in mice
Rather be druid in seclusion, under cave-light
Made life better, once I focused on my hindsight
Key in on my happiness, disregard the limelight
So all aboard the astral plane, it’s your captain speaking
If I get too far ahead, just look out for the beacon
I spend weekend’s writing endlessly to keep me from the bush-league
First round draft pick, Atlanta bound, Butch Lee
Wish ME luck, I’m bout to test this new contraption
Used for mapping out the future to ensure conducive action
Using magic, plus some ancient gadgets, logic with some changing facets
Lean into my strangest habits, sit at home, creating classics
Fading sands, back in time, shot the ground, made em dance
Game of chance, trying to hold on with they’re praying hands
Way advanced, futuristic being, secret life of plants
Speaker of the House of Wax where EVERYthing is happenstance

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