Pusha T – Numbers on the boards (explicit)

Gritty. Non-Stop Hardness. Violence that spills into the street. Front street complete with breakins. Broken bones no simpletons.

…and the one overhead light started flickering

I feel strange.
The paint is coming off the walls.
I forgot to paint them again.
The paint is coming off.

There is no smell. Nothing.
It smells like a doctor’s office.
and that is to say,
the sense is missing.

I feel panicked.
Can no one else feel it?
Nothing feels real.
I’m plugged into something.

I’m plugged in and I can’t get out.
Wish I could turn the clock back.
My eyes … they are projecting.
Paranoia. Fake. Phony.

All their eyes are barred or blurred.
I don’t like them without their eyes.
They’re scarier than they already were.
We used to play pretend.

Hiding under blanket forts.
I’m a million miles from my parent’s basement.
Or maybe I’m floating right on top of it.
I really don’t like them without their eyes.

Burning half circles into my eyelids.
Help me.
None of you are real.
You are part of my subconscious.

Is there some silver ladder out of here?
I’ll climb every rung.
I promise I’ll never skip a step.
I promise.

What’s under the rug?
All those secrets. So close to my feet.
I can feel them running like ants.
Paranoia. Fake. Phony.

Help me! Won’t you?
I’ve heard your name spoken up in front.
Where are you now?
Where were you then?

Pressing against my temples.
Pressing like a league under the sea.
Pressing like depression.
With quintessential alien sounds.

Flying saucers hover quietly.
They don’t sound so ludicrous.
They sound kinda familiar.
I’ve decided I like the sound.

Lull me to sleep.
We used to play pretend.
Was that yesterday?
Did it ever happen?

I’m climbing up the levels now.
Somehow, they’re going down.
I climb between the sheets.
Unexpectedly, there’s a door for my head.

Everything is fake and made of plastic.
Even your voice.
I grab at the seams and tug as hard as I can.
Nothing. More plastic people.

The seas are raining.
I hate to be underneath it all.
But here I am.
Under the skies of seas raining down.

I want to yell something vulgar.
A word that will make you wince and turn away.
I can’t think of anything powerful.
Neither can you.

…and the one overhead light went out.

Shad – Dreams

One of the building blocks of my site is Shad. He is a block and the glue. I love this guy’s music like you will never know. He speaks to me in my language, my native tongue. He is doing big things and I am convinced he won’t stop until he’s under the earth. Much love as always to you SK!

Shad – Dreams from (360) To Nowhere on Vimeo.

RHODES – breathe

I love dynamics within a song. (I can hear a few friends yelling, “we get it with the dynamics already!” ’cause I talk about them a lot) This song makes me shut my eyes and gracefully, I think anyway, float about my room. It’s easy for me to get lost and I like that. “Never give up, breathe release it all.”

twenty one pilots – stressed out

Ohio’s own making waves musically. Refreshing to hear their sound.

and again

Are you holding your breath again?
Struggling and reaching for the surface.
The tension is at a breaking point.
But it hasn’t broken yet.

Can you imagine that first breath?
Struggling and reaching for the surface.
You understand that you are drowning.
Are you holding your breath again?

You understand that you are drowning.
The salt taste on your tongue.
The tension is at a breaking point.
But it hasn’t broken yet.

Can you imagine that first breath?
Struggling and reaching for the surface.
The salt taste on your tongue.
Are you holding your breath again?

Love people

Free people, free people. 
And broken people, break people.
And lost people, lose people
but, loving people, love people.

Free people, free people.
And hurting people, hurt people.
And depressed people, depress people
but, loving people, love people.

Free people, free people.
And shamed people, shame people.
And mourning people, mourn people
but, loving people, love people.

Free people, free people.
And angry people, anger people.
And enslaved people, enslave people
but, loving people, love people.

Naive

I think many people would like to claim they are more cynical about the world than naive. Truth is, we are all more naive than knowledgeable.