mark henry - toep esrevni (feat. the sage,) lyrics
[intro]
(no one holds my pen
like i)
[bridge]
cl!ck there goes the ball point
it’s felt at every point
cl!ck there goes the ball point
it’s felt at every point
ink drops like a ship to a showman
thinkin’ inverse like a poet
[verse]
as i reverberate
and what goes around
encloses him behind bars
increase that murder rate
an incarcerated poet
he didn’t even know it yet
the margin is marginal to the victory dance
crippling pain skews the contortion
of wrinkly death fingered hands
he steadily stares
petting the beard, tangling schemes
running through his head
runnin’ like a spear
dead!
words mixed infused with black
soul crushing backwards
i’m posing threats to the noisiness
of what in hopes is closer
with the dual sided hemisphere
i document the letters
i have sent from here
just a marijuana occupant
articulating antioxidants
simon says touch your earlobes
but mark in minute remarked
infinity sparked
clothing remotely exploding
haberdashery zero yes
indulge in that debauchery
blotchy block of fault rock bottom i hit it
but the algae is bound to arouse me
hodgepodge
of bitter brains badgering my mental health
help
infinite ignorant intolerant babies rock that oshkosh
i might as well revise my writing wisely
in rewinding (for all you f+cking idiots)
inverse
firing up those tiring verbs
inscribing so blindly adjective insert
and here i am afloat, amass
with the shadows that i cast on
how do you not live in fear
where the fad is a demand to wear a mask on
smack talk goin’ in reverse fashion after it
jot down the worlds chatter from right to left
that’s half of the battle
the past could imagine it
[hook]
i am in reverse
i did, i did not rehe+rs+
i am in reverse
feeling the inverse
i am in reverse
i did, i did not rehe+rs+
i am in reverse
feeling like an inverse poet
feeling like an inverse poet
poet, poet
[verse: sage]
ahhh
so hypnotized
off your black leather seats
and your curve tipped eyes
no need for aggression
why so passive
no need for the cursive
that’s a passage left hand glance
one way left
oh sh+t that’s a savage
hey sir could you wrap up my glasses
hey sir could you wrap up my glasses
i can’t help but etch fine sketch
moving pen
wrong end for a friend
that’s a fragment pen to the pavement
don’t aim for the flagrant
like an as, assimilate smilies
verbal destruction to the vocal abilities
possibly inclined to invert with facilities
don’t cry is all about agility
that’s a double entendre
doom, danger, king gheedera
don’t leave out sinatra
smells like cilantro
who’s alone
don’t kiss that ???
phono sounds
logo frowns
don’t hold the d from the crowds
that’s a show to those nouns
don’t hold those nouns
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