a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

landmarque – for days on end lyrics


yeah, i’ve been watching how it all goes down
i got my sleeves folded
about to give a mystical brown to make the heat smoulder
devine aroma like a china stick
[?] is got you in a comma, dead beat counterfeit
i got your soul lit, on fire like a [?] less race
serotonin amid to blow, ultraviolet
how i shine solar ray
bipolar mic holder spit colder than the average spin bowler
see my face in a dartboard
dark lord, black sheep under that mapped out in the tripod
bend over since the rebirth so preserve
the symbol is a rye of a tidal, trojan horse your idol
rehe+rs+ like a ballplayer
somebody hold the hands of time
speed dial a watchmaker
retreat with the catalogue of scripture if you gotta kick the real
the candle fl!cker, slow+burn chill
let my mind’s finger paint you a picture
in a lingering winter during the solstice
in the ’81, my mother delivered me to the earth like it was god’s work
visualise the artwork like ornamental engraving in clockwork
miraculous [?] without a cosign
moonlit veil shining off the midnight sun
the night of the wolves
angels [?] tripped when he walk there
warfare from the first day, give me some ironware
life’s never been a bed of roses
the enemy is ferocious diagnosis [?] ate the lotus
if we finally retaliate the barbarous oppression
n0body is privileged to choose the manner or the weapon
scavage, telling [?] people “behave”
when they never had a choice on whether or not they should be slaves
leaders are the brave, [?] manipulators
opulence of sick bigotry, foul, criminal, calculated
evil begets so you get what you give
many nights, cold sweats, day shivers and chills
when i think about what it really means to be free
or how it really feels especially the highest degree
wanna grow old, lavish as italian barrack
on a piece of an estate that’s fit for otto bizmark
in full health, peruvian [?]
and play “blues for a hip king”
and [?] for the patriarchs
humming in the distance, the sounds of the clarinet
as my hair grey like the ashes of a cigarette
and when my life is smoked what remains is a silhouette
i’m going out with a bang like a shock of a pistol wind