Break Bread

Lyrics

[Hook: Illogic] {x2} I brought rhymes to the table And everybody made space Divided it accordingly, and Blueprint said grace [Blueprint] I brought beats to the table And everybody made space Divided it accordingly, Illogic said grace Illogic said grace Illogic said grace [Verse: Illogic] I'm no longer tickled by you fickle fabrications Of simple exhalations calculated with nonsense actually elevated Now that I'm weightless, no longer lost in youth Lost in which the teeth of a greenish tint I've been rhyming since time and energy held hands, and you just Had your first session last week, but you nice Asking to do a song with Ill in the hope to flex the skill But your vocals won't come out right, 'cause it's your second time at a mic (What the hell is he doing?) I don't know, Print, the way these cats Flow wack and wanna act like they not feeling me Claiming I make up words and that I'm too abstract 'Cause I expand vocab in the lab and barely spit a simile I'm trying to take hip-hop to places it's never been Like your mom's deck, instead of having your sister hoping in her dreams I want your grandma at my show, rocking my shirt And your pops asking to use your copy of Unforeseen 'Cause I dropped a fly -ish, like an eagle Smuggling illegal substance in bowel, fumbling droppings You already receiving hate mail from labels, telling you you wack And never catching a hit, you continue to keep shopping They just don't get it (They need to be circled the finest china) With a tall glass of fresh wine squeezed from the grapes of wrath With a linoleum table cloth and [?] napkins 'Til they can listen to they own wack rapping and laugh [Hook: Illogic] [Blueprint] I brought beats to the table And everybody made space Divided it accordingly, Illogic said grace [Illogic] I brought rhymes to the table And everybody made space Divided it accordingly, and Blueprint said grace And Blueprint said grace And Blueprint said grace [Verse: Blueprint] There ain't enough time in the day To shred your gay documents You heard what it takes but you still did the opposite And fronted like you was hungry for a battle But you better restrict what you crave to White Castles You want food for thought, how you like apples? I got one with a worm in it I can toss at you And I can tell by the way you bite styles That the natural instinct is to catch it in your mouth Straight sharking But I got a box full of fingertips locked in my closet When cats bite mine, I make deposits It's sad what you gotta do to make 'em stop it Take these words home and think 'em through Or the next hand with four fingers might belong to you Cats got it wrong cause they know your song They think they got the right to stick their nose where it don't belong You want to know where Print be digging at You wanna know what spot I got my drums from You wanna know what I be making beats on I got a new piece of gear now you want one Ain't nothing wrong with sharing information But there was a lot of bullshit I had to go through It made me appreciate the art form more And you be missing that if I just told you Cats be like... "You nice on the beats Blueprint, can you do some for me? Your shits' hot." But when you say you don't believe in doing beats for free All of a sudden, the phone calls stop Fine Now I can concentrate on me and mine And bum rushing any open door we can find I rep Greenhouse Effect Seems we're gonna drop it Life's Innocence, buy the album when I drop it [Hook] {x2} [Illogic] [x4] I brought rhymes He brought beats The rest of you motherfuckers is weak. (You suck!) -- Dance with me Sinking slowly into the seas of shadow Silently screaming for something, someone to save me How many times must time catch me dancing off-beat with circus clowns oblivious to the obvious As these severed heads sit upon my mantle daily declaring that I die also? 'Why lay dormant as you', I ask, demented without direction No - no, no, I refuse your refuge recycled reflecting running rampant and wildly within I see now I see now for I cannot see next and before has slipped my mind What do you see? Do you see what you could have been or what you've become? I see what I am I see in me, I see I am shining through from behind my eyes Find yourself in life's rhythm and dance with me Move your soul step by step towards perfect Find life's rhythm only within and then, only then, you may dance The faces we weave This tapestried headdress upon the height of my existence metamorphs to fit the occasion The rooms of life change as does the mask worn to show the person hoping to be presented at the present position of sand or time to the layman This face doesn't begin to show the sides of this polygon Movement into new words cause new masks to be invented Green pastures are invented for mask removal, relaxation from impersonation of self When you look at me, what do you see? What you want to or what I allow Do the two combine at times to create a mesh of persons encompassed in one? Encased in face concocting, we continue to build veils of brick to shield the extensive, horrid view with face paints of faulty framework How can one so stable morph at a dime drop? Do I do that? Do you do that? We all take part in the dance of the [?] Stand atop your table of despair Your table set in the presence of thine enemies as you blend as an imposter So continue to blend and lose thyself When you set your eyes upon this shell, you see the mask that you wish, not the mask that is there Very few take time to reach past their perception and dive into the reality of personality In your eyes, I am what you mold me to be when in most cases, that's not who I am Due to society, we constantly stand on the brink of transformation unbeknownst to ourselves because of typecasting To you, who am I? To me, who are you? The answer to these questions continue to change as we seek a redefinition of ourselves through mask creations New masks are formed as we encounter the scenery on this journey of life, whether the scenery positive or negative A new face is molded accordingly by you or the beings you come in contact with So be conscious of what mask you wear while I sit dreaming of the day where we won't have to wear masks at all Imagine that Imagine that Imagine that Where am I now? Not where I want to be, but supposed to be, I hope I am, therefore I breathe, I breathe, therefore I live, yet at times, I do not exist See, existing is not necessarily living, I've found Many exist as the walking dead, as I do at times, to escape just living It kinda makes you think, why escape just living? Well, just living isn't always just, at times, it's just insane or it's just pain But the pain and/or insanity are often justified as just life I am prey trapped in the snares of just life Hoping to be freed by just death, which many fear, but I reply, it's just death At that point, I am silenced by a just life, that I enjoy, though painful Pleasure rears its beautiful head more often than not to remind me that a just life must be accompanied by just living Yet at times, I still wish to just exist, encouraging me to just live See at times, I wish to just exist But that encourages me to continue to just live Fallen I've fallen from the clouds, but on my feet I've fallen Crouched in fetal position, a high wire master, but I've fallen Was hoping to shine on the stage where asteroids dance hand in hand waving banners that read 'star', but I've fallen An apple connected to the roots that dug into the earth, but why does my core deem itself domicile to the thoughts of earthworms? I've fallen into that ditch too many times, but time does nothing but encourage me to look forward to the time when I would fall again Why fall when you can float? Why walk when you can read? Why speak when you can write? Why bleed when you can dream, or can you dream? It seems your dreams stop at the last sheep counted, straddling the picket fence beneath Where my voice leaves waves and doesn't look back, reminding me that the high wire is too risky and the sidewalk street swallows men whole Earth angels with clipped wings and dismal togas, dingy from the desolate walk with me I walk with me and see myself in the better light that tips the sun rays, and watch my falling thoughts rev on revolving runways I am not strange I stand at the forefront of this race Though my race has four fronts, all masked Each solo hue all adapted from the fourth I am not strange Though my life is an open book that began with chapter twelve and the proceeding chapters are charred on the charcoals glowing at a furious 451 Fahrenheit Is this the height of my being? Am I being too abstract for laymen to catch each parable thrown into the garden of tombstones with a lack of shieldings from smooth stones lay men? I stand alone in this old brick house that sits atop the highest molehill that each mountain you see is made out of I am not strange Yet I am drawn to the pencil that draws my perspective in a strange fashion Is it strange that I enter the shooting range baring arms that drip phalanges from each palm? When all along this long shot at living the 19th Psalm has me sweating bullets perforating each moving target Stop moving Stop moving unless 'multi' is the precursor to your direction Have I lost direction? Have I found the strange in my direction? Though the range of the strange in my direction floats [?] like clutching the [?] I am engulfed by the patience I lack to operate the knob turning the change stations Yet I'm yearning to change stations I am not strange She had plans to follow my footprints that I left in duration sands, but the overwhelming wave crash of my emotion's ocean wash the path away "How can I follow when they've washed the path away?" she screams She wondered why the path now was only walked in her dreams Am I too late? Or is it too early to say? See, where I stay, the walls close in, attempting to box in this poem but I can say at least she knows I am not strange Well, is it strange that I-think-I-cans turn I-thought-I-coulds and the sun only shines when I sleep? Yeah, it's strange that the sun only shines when I sleep And I sleep now 'cause my shadow is cast on the sidewalk street from the sunshine And pinholes trace my eyelids from the sunshine where darkness burns through as I sleep I sleep on cloth-covered tables that rest on the backs of goblins that waken when my eyes close to snatch my dreams They catch my dreams, thrown from its incubator where I hatch my dreams I am not strange For two and a half years I've been voluntarily locked in my locks as an old shoebox, airtight The air might hold a key to each lock to be unlocked within myself as a task within itself She seemed to notice the burial of my eyes into my breastplate Not hidden, buried Resting I am not strange Though the sun only shines when I sleep, I am not strange The moon glows as it walks and talks with me Hands clasp around my wrist, but every recap of this list insists I am not strange I am not strange I am not Strange