Wednesday, December 9, 2009

The Meanest Thing I'd Never Say

I've been wondering where El-P and Def Jux have been lately. But then I realized, oh, they're are just holed up in a tiny Brooklyn apartment for weeks on end writing incredibly complex, poetic, depressingly dope songs about pain and loss. Silly me.

This isnt brooklyn,
its a colony of wayward bees without a queen
and we are not people,
more like sims controlled by childish deities,
but see we're alive now,
and thats not time we're wasting, nah this is life
and you're so pretty,
like the gleam off that blade when you slipped my ribs the shivy,
this aint a breakup,
i like to think of it as a stay of execution,
and thats not the air im clearing,
its the wispy trails of our cumulus pollution,
and thats not despair you're feeling,
its the petchulant reaction of a wounded child
and thats not the door im looking at,
its an escape hatch to this zeppelin we're inside...

You're not a woman,
you're a piranha with cutlery for dentured up smile
and i'm not a man,
i'm an incomplete punchline to a joke i dont understand,
that's not your diary,
it's a cookbook and i'm you're favorite chapter when you're bored
and thats not a love letter,
its a recipe for the same slop you've served before
this aint an insult,
its the clearest truth i've ever had the misery to speak
but these arent words,
these are the terms of my surrender and defeat
but i'm not sorry,
beyond the sorry nature of existing with no plans,
please dont touch me.
just wave goodbye with that claw thats not a hand.
did I mention that I...


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