Originally Posted by
.5KutSkeleton
my support's dime is twisted and forced to rise in the form of fire,
I am sworn to retire when our world is reborn,
to walk this war-torn earth I have no desire
cross boards beside liars and kill lords with idols of wires,
my hands, idle are the tools of rulers and their conspirators
acquire jewels and plots from looted vaults,
I leap from rooftops and land in ruined lots
I am the fusion of Timb's future discog, P. Monch and a seed's launch
from the fingers of all-seeing gods, on enemy's cities we march
bomb seas with rings and stars,
my pawns cause stock cards to lean and yawn
don't stop to sponsor these cars, we are the opposite of clean starts
cock beez to spark degrees, in the dark our hearts beat to chart periodic cheese....