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The synopsis of this is manipulation.

by A. Ripdae la Wise Escobar

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Chorus: Yoo, see me, I float, with leaves. Yoo, see me, I float, with leaves. Verse: Silhouette silhouette silhouette, silhouette, thumb silhouette. The way I feel about them is the way god feels about everyone. The shape is smeared as the water switches gears to the fears of those who hide the abnormal, rapid flow & thus every random body manifest falls over into this metaphor for a freaky creek. Oh so you’re dirty like that huh? You like for it to be slowed down nearly chopped & screwed because that mimics how your heart beat & groove. I beat my dick to ya, you know it you love it, my wife knows that’s all it’ll ever be, she knows you’re kink is to tease and she knows my kink is to not fall for a sleaze, because her kink is knowing the truth about me. Listening to my music makes my wife feel like I’m there, as if my name doesn’t have the same glare. I can be two in one, Jux-hop was once the last album, the composer’s commentary version. I’m tortured, like a pair of tires stuck to a road playing the role of a human’s hand extensions. I’m a slut, I know this, I used sex to survive, that’s why every relationship I had with a female before I met her was solely a mist of sexual bliss. I’m shedding in a thread my soul is written as I manifest.
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Chorus: Lusting after reason where you’ll become treason. Are you we or you? Are you we or you? Lusting after reason where you’ll become treason. Are you we or you? Are you we or you? Verse: Fossils coming to you don’t you lose you, keep a looker, book a conscious in a loony monop, I’ll be. Fossils at the speed of sound of death come fast as you take a step, I'm feeling cryptic, break my bones so you can feel it while dwelling during the swelling, I maneuver at my best so the tragedy is I’ll never be the underdog step from death who grips life to prove toughness, I have all the balance poking Stiff Accident roping a tight rope while doing something in the air. This is my god standard. Why is it god standard when Titan’s are greater than gods? Well son that’s because humans view themselves as godly oddly, and Titan’s as gods. Humanity is valiant for fighting against Mother Nature to reclaim or sustain a sense of dominance over something that isn’t human, but the hilarity here is it isn’t smart to think nature doesn’t have complete control of you or the upper-hand. At any moment nature can kill us, destroy the very existence of you as a human being to the point that if you still do exist your existence is to exist within the hell of your decomposing shell, there is probably only a freedom from that shell when we throw cremation into the mix.
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Chorus: Weaponizing different guys, who all want a taste of a different life, fuck the money take their souls, fuck the money take their souls. Weaponizing different gals, who all want a taste of a different pearl, fuck the money take their soul, fuck the money take their soul. Verse: Surface creature with a pound of needles, sliding to the top to disable a promise, of sense, and struggles with patience, you can lose the shuffle and end up muffled in the duffle of a pseudo-God, hands together when you see yourself, hands together when you see yourself, you’re holy like the walls of a nun in hell. Call that the rape of a noir elf, a dame to kill for, in a city of sinful rigor, I can stop myself, I can stop myself, but I enjoy being retired on my shelf of alienation. Chorus: Weaponizing different guys, who all want a taste of a different life, fuck the money take their souls, fuck the money take their souls. Weaponizing different gals, who all want a taste of a different pearl, fuck the money take their soul, fuck the money take their soul.
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Chorus: Cha-toon in a dark saloon, balancing atop of a caca loon. Cha-toon in a dark saloon, balancing atop of a caca loon. Cha-toon in a dark saloon, balancing atop of a caca loon. Cha-toon in a dark saloon, balancing atop of a caca loon. Verse: Crimson listen to the cage you sit in, sitting in thin with a look of morbid, sordid express at sudden extension, I move to the beat of my own drumming & tensions. Should I mention the culprits? I move thin like a card, slice like a shard in a ballpit, kids don’t see sharp until their arm their table hits, confuse themselves for a second. Chorus: Cha-toon in a dark saloon, balancing atop of a caca loon. Cha-toon in a dark saloon, balancing atop of a caca loon. Cha-toon in a dark saloon, balancing atop of a caca loon. Cha-toon in a dark saloon, balancing atop of a caca loon.
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about

Sequel to “with a moko jumbie & a persona of three” & “Nothing in the abyss surprises me”

Composer’s Commentary version: m.youtube.com/watch?v=QcpEwWDVx2k

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released February 20, 2019

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A. Ripdae la Wise Escobar St Thomas, Virgin Islands

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