From Songs


Pas Encore…

Nous Voici. Nous y revoila, se balancant a travers les saisons mon ami. Donc Nous Voici, Nous y revoila, Comptant Nos benedictions seul dans le silence que se couche dessous nos sentiments… alors seul, maintenant seul, seul alors même pendant que nous rêvons de l’autre… Nous allons donc pas l’accent sur le reste. Juste nous permettre a fleur ces merveilleux choses grandissant entre toi et moi: Un Amour Mûri, Une Passion intacte et pure, Un Amour épanoui… Un Amour issu de respect mutuel, Un Amour non reconnu… Pas tout de suite… Pas tout de suite.

Not Yet

Here We Are Here We Are Again   Swinging Ourselves through The Seasons My Friend   So Here We Are Here We Are Again   Counting Our Blessings Alone in the Stillness That Lies Beneath   Lonely Now Lonely Then Lonely Even as We Think of Each Other   So Let’s Not Stress the Rest Just Allow it to Blossom These Lovely Fruits Grown from Our Chests:   A Love Matured A Love Untarnished and Pure A Love Flourished   A Love Born from Mutual Respect A Love Not Recognized   Not Just Yet…   Not Just Yet.

Look Past It

Grow into your body, anxiety fades away   (“Kobe!”)   Here look, take notes. I too annotate “Constant Pursuit, Life don’t Stop” “Constant Pursuit” that’s the mission Yea we don’t stop, fuck an acid drop   (“whoa bro everything’s going guacamole”) [mockingly]   Yessir, I becomes we as they stare down what stands in-between– Like fallen angels, they become their idols; like He rocks the boat and She cackles Like He wants Her in His shackles, and She wants Him so they welcome the spirit who knocks, coughs and brings hell when these rotten thoughts go HAM and run rampant…

Pulled From the Ether

Claim no knowledge I claim no knowledge Like these things I speak of Exist only when my mind’s free of   (Despair, denial, doubt gifted from Belial) (Despair, denial, doubt gifted from Belial)   Bars I have not though this speaker still knocks Like this cadence perfectly sync’s with the clock A profession pardoned by fruits forbidden Words turning as I burn this zoot Thoughts churning, rhymes I split in two And again here we are   (Despair, denial, doubt gifted from Belial) (Despair, denial, doubt gifted from Belial)   (“Slip into the Sound”) (“Slip into the Sound”) (“Smoke this…