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foreign beggars - coded rhythm talk lyrics

[verse 1: farma g]
i walk with an army of zombies, dancing and chanting
bloodfests and orgies, skeletons are marching
with ogres and martians
evil cantations
paegans and witches, the flight of a raven
songs from the gravestones, fire from the rooftops
brimstone and lightning, curse of a cyclops
my rage in a red cloud, vortex of cyclones
storms in a teacup, fight til my eyes closed
is this my coffin or a lifeboat to cairo?
ships on the dead sea, offspring of pirates
offerings for lost gods buried in the silence
the thirteenth ghost from the halls of the asylum
giants of seance, rain, sun or hailstones
stopped in my tracks, handcuffed to a rail road
waiting for a slow train due before morning
welcome to the end of the world that we’re born in

[verse 2: chester p]
i’m going to try and kick it with that rhyming sh-t that’s scientific
but even my lightest lyrics seem like hieroglyphics to mindless critics
f-ck your spineless gimmicks, wisely set, we come precise as physics
my wisdom on the track like some s-m-n on your nicest biscuits
just a violent misfit trying to vocalise my life’s statistics
cos hazard be decisively while my peeps release the tightest mixes
but why should indict tendecies [?] as hitler’s
trying to fix this wine because the light’s ballistics
symbiotic structure of flows, rhymes and drum patterns
shattering soundscapes raise your wordplay with shaking atoms
staggering through time and sp-ce like beligerent individuals
foreign beggars symphatized it nice but not hospitable
visual conceptualisation resulted in coded rhythm talk
diminishing listenings [?] written in chalk
making a stalk are the weaker seeds of the first signs
my third eye sheds a tear through fear of the burning light

[bridge]
cold-hearted
insane
and maybe sane at the same time
so evil
we’re all gunna be slaughtered

[verse 3: metropolis]
i’m the son of a demon
conceived with no s-m-n
the h-ll-raiser
threw in a razor and can’t feel it
i see through an eye-patch
i’m just about breathing
the cobwebs are bleeding
revealing my feelings
half brother of damien
drinking uranium
i’ll sn-tch up the atmosphere and put out the sunlight
what could be better than spoiling your fun so
feast on a new-born and fetish for tongue is
how i became to be known as the one
i’m a flesh crawling hybrid
crossed with a dinosaur
t-rex power drill banging on your front door
skin scorched bad like the singing detective
lord of all darkness, the true loch ness
fb’s on deception like a lethal injection
protection from my crucifix ends in rejection
prepare for the end of this world cos we’re ballin’

[verse 4: orifice vulgatron]
i’m dryly spiteful
it’s higher it’s highly insightful
orifice on the offend, rippin it like a tyson [?]
despite all that my nine to five what is mine and rightful
strive for the life that is nice because finding rhymes is highly delightful
lies are viral, especially when dispersed by meisers on vinyl
i’m violently inclined like the plight of a tyrant’s rival
can’t to decide whether to confide in a knife or bible
providing a fight in spite is just a coward’s cry for survival
attention defecit reflection of edgy restlessness
never mention perfection yes i dwell in the densest crevices
my head is where the best of them perish, the battle’s effortless
feeding off the fact that you’re stressing ’bout your defencelessness
every single person’s a victim for different reasons
defeating yourself is just your instincts committing treason
spitting every season come ice, fire or water
enter this next level of malevolence and slaughter

[outro]
prepare for the end of this world cos we ballin’ x 8

- foreign beggars lyrics

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