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Track 21 of Animus Session: The Dead of Winter.
lyrics
Prelude
Right Before the drums is the hardest part,
Some grunt, some yell to try to clear the heart,
But the question sets in: I wonder how it’ll go,
Maybe next time, we should pray some mo’
Verse
The Artist’s Prayer, I rap it with lofty thoughts,
To make it clear, we are those who could not be bought,
No matter how much, we stuck to our guns,
So when the demons came charging, we’d be ready to bust,
Excuse the pun; a simple man with the gift of words,
Who just can’t help feeling this gift is like a curse,
Cause sometimes Lord, with every verse written,
Seconds become minutes, there’s a change of season,
The clock is always ticking and that’s what I fear,
That when folks who care are reminiscing,
I’ll just come up missing,
Lost in the annals of time,
But if I had a chance, I wouldn’t press rewind,
Cause no matter what; I know you’ve got a reason,
For why I am one people should listen to,
And grow from the seeds of knowledge that I hold,
And with your grace, it’ll always be the purest of gold,
Magnified tenfold, please protect me from the snow,
Loose girls, lines of blow this industry can bestow,
Cause I’m a weak man, you can see it in my life,
My heart and my soul, this is why I need Christ…you.
Denouement
Sometimes they pop sh-t,
Sometimes they hoik! spit,
But I want to be different,
I want you as my locksmith.
Control my tongue, control my desire,
And I pray you fan the flames, of my artistic fire.
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