Best Metric

Lyrics

Rap is now shadowing rock, finding its hit song version of stock Perfect for bots or a cop, alas, how fast food it has got Turn up to ten and pretend to be shocked, it's all very energy drink Circling drain in the sink, spiraling violence of clothing moguls Clogging a garbage disposal Robotic vocals at home in the growl of appliance bowels Cleaning blood off of vowels with towels Till it's all gone, and the grown can move on To what separates popular song from fools still doing it wrong Watching an art form digress the longer it's dispensed Into ears at a consumer's expense, it all makes sense This god or goddess opinion of novice In mass, has long plotted to find a subconscious Lower bar nonsense, that's loudest and drowns out the downest Most close to the ether, no features, face eaters With weaker, more digestible meat Threshed and compressed through a speaker For laymen believers in most recent sneakers To call keeper and season their weekends with friends Via this artisanal blend of impersonal men Who dip the whole pen in pretend Rinse and begin again after a Gala or ten, ah, to be trend Slowing down in the turnaround sound of dead end Nothing is killing me softly It's all a rather aggressive, stress-tipped mid-deathness Despite doing my bestest, this persists endless Like I don't get the message, never switching its methods Makes a control freak wanna catch reckless Chase snakes for breakfast and mingle my noise in with poisons And the wish of wood boys in the fucked cuc, no god Public puppet show, really though, I'm ready to let it go But stay yoked in hold choke on strong rope I know not what I tow, 'cause beast boy is in blinders Pining for kinder riders, kicking whatever behind or In front, 'cause sidewinders will strike this old timer Solely to find their limits, projecting a frigid image To hidden the warmth that they live in What if it's all fake And these supposed risk takers have always been safe Confused truth on the take, in the bed that they make Where they lay wide awake and stare off into space Lost look on their face, are these the breaks No tech on the dresser, not tougher than leather And lesser transgressors, jawing out gesture And that emptiness festers, makes the ear, head, and chest hurt But I digress, for I'm humoring jesters So I might perpetually lecture But I'm no college professor, nor soulless assessor of records Simply a poem perfector and fierce fan of rap's nectar For as long as I can remember [?] is your hip hop tip top Down you are not, you just like pop A marketing fan who only misses the plot And you're headed for a hell that [?] Being the best and being a success are not the same metric [?] not on my watch