Cancion : Trampled Brethren
Artista : Dälek
Album : From Filthy Tongue of Gods and Griots
Url : https://www.letras10.co/letra-trampled-brethren-de-dalek


With uncertainty i ink my final thoughts on unlit blocks
Niggas caught on heron nods
Still at odds with false gods of archaic age
Angelic face wretched with pain ignites my flame
Your mundane daily life amazes me
Such complacency
Tattered city once brimming with life now sits abandoned
Some feel these thoughts too random
I hand them their empty heads as main coarse to DaVinci's Last Supper
As they sit in wonder
Abundant sun pours over ald steel and bricks
Filling my aching eyes till they split
I felt my earth shift, contort, and twist
Lift heavy brow to view what happened to my tiny corner of dirt
Worthless soul too old to care
As despair builds thick amongst my people
From burnt steeples hear distant toll of bells
Ancient tongue swells as one lumbers with prenatal language
Manage a coarse throaty mumble to convey how this earth crumbles
I tumble, close to where I've been a million times before
Free to ignore pain which pounds at human temples
I resemble less of a man and more the dirt I tread on
The truth I fed on
To my trampled brethren
Heaven won't accept you!
Either you or it don't exist
Consider that a gift
As we walk through that mist filled vally
Vulnerable souls tell tales of ill proportions
Scorching RA soothing moon, soon to dim
My travels at an end, light bends to dark
Jagged crossed sticks manhandled as scripture and art
Picture your Christ as blond and blue eyed
As mine resides within confines of empty glass bottle
Robbed of youth i wobble past society and rest my head on curb of reality
If only for a nap
To grasp for that which we lack
Remain trapped in these three dimensions
Mention I once stepped past, now viewed as insane
Trained human pets scurry to cubical for food pellets
Next funeral for those who think, cause thoughts are relics
I smell this viscous odor on each face I meet
Seems humanity reached peak in 20th century
My jaded eye strains to see through a smoke-filled room
Consumed by books which speak of our past
At last begin to piece together our beginnings
With few fleeting seconds till our end
Quickly cross that bridge you bum
See what's on the other shore
It's lure magnetic
In our drunken minds
Poor feeble shell hoping for so much more
Left entranced by ancient dance of emptiness
Few are the blessed who feed on truth's breast


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