Olden Time’s
We Leave them Past Behinds
See Sights
Of these Live’s
They Roll By
Like Mirrors on The wall
Inside what was ripe
Has turned raw
Like a saw
Yeah
Back Forth
It goes
Like a Ball
Analog
The kids They call for Kellog’s
And when i talk all i output from other human beings are syntax errors
So Why not join the Good Fellows?
Their Rituals And Game’s
Might end Badly if you play
with the lighters and the flames
Before the blades
That’s the American Way
Before the lighter’s and the blades
That’s the American Way
I wonder what the Indians have to say?
Or The Mormons that Pray
For them Heavens were made
That are not afraid to Play The Game
Yei Yei
Truth Detective
Self made
Around the Globe we Go
And return to the land of snow
Golden File’s
We open them and see the rhyme’s
Transparent so
Like a window
But reflective into it’s own
As they say my
Life and mind
Has been polished so you can see the heavens inside
And what you find
Is what come’s back after you have tried
So many time’s
That’s the Karmic Debth of the soul
And when you have played your role
The windows like crystals on a mirror they fold
Reflecting back into it’s own
To open back up
Like a lotus Flower from Himalaya
As The Guru
Said These line’s
Everyone in The Audience became Englightened and their souls shot to the skies.
Everything the Guru Said Rhymed
But
Their minds Were clouded by the devil inside
And their sight was not purified by Jesus Christ
The preacher sent shivers down their spine’s
Causing syntax error’s in their third eye’s
Everyone that was fat
Became slim & fit
Everyone who was addicted and lived in sin
Was freed from their yoke
Before the lighter’s and the blades
They forgave their enemies and let go their desires for money & fame
They prayed
Like a bunny from the show
That this man may turned into a spiritual warrior
For them Heavens were made
That are not afraid to Play The Game
THE PREACER NEVER GOT PAID
BUT FOR THESE TYPE OF PEOPLE HEAVENS WERE MADE
THAT’S ATLEAST WHAT THE CHRISTIANS SAY
THEY EVEN GAVE THEIR BIBLE’S AWAY
Truth Detective
Self made
Around the Globe we Go
And return to the land of snow
You see this Arjuna
For the truth inside
You have to fight
Eventough
All you want to do
Is Lie in the snow
And travel so
From The time to time
Until you find that punchline
That will get you the best kind of wife
Monasteries Filled these types
Who have left the world behind
After the patient mind
It’s the soil that brings the fruit
But the fruit
It might still be no good
Keep that in mind
when
Next time
You stand in front of the
lighters and the flames
Before the blades
Your sin
It made you pray
Even mooji saaid
That smoking ganja
Not a Good way
For those who want the truth anyway