A few weeks back Illogic and Ill Poetic performed a few cuts at their Diabolical Fun release party in Columbus, OH. Above Illogic performs 1,000 Whispers. A record I highly suggest you pay attention to. Shit has been a favorite of mine for years now. Actually… hit the jump and follow along with the lyrics. And while you’re down there, you can catch another clip from the party.
If a picture’s worth a thousand words I’ll paint a thousand pictures
To symbolize the decibel levels bred of a thousand whispers
To mummify useless unknown poems spit a shower with gold glitter
Pressure increase unleash the catacomb splitters
And for some reason you wonder why your puzzle is a jigsaw
When you fail to decipher the mores code to simply avoid the pitfalls
If need be I can get raw – just pocket the latex
But that’s like asking why the man with no legs crawls to see the apex
Or why the young planet’s seeds won’t blossom into a garden
Parallel to your search for stardom where you leave breadcrumbs and jargon
That you can’t even feel. So how’s that for surface tension?
Every step shows you’re a worthless henchman itching to meet your maker
I’d rather finger-paint than take a tainted pen and curse the paper
Voice box turns cauldron, saliva boils, then thoughts are vapor
If seeing foremost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades
Then a thoroughbred’s accuracy isn’t the focal point of perfection
Therefore you trudge through waist-high sludge and caramelized paints where
Prints left, taint every breath
Inhale – golden oxygen, then step graciously over landmines shallow beneath the soil surface
Take a small step for man and ascend a stairway to heaven on pegs
To take a giant leap for mankind to stand and keep your legs
What a dilemma to hold hands with
Sanity’s a steep cliff of gift
And it seems because of your fork-tongued dreams your hands slipped
Rip your canteen of get-rich schemes and set sail on the seven seas
Hooker left that envy to drown in greed
Before you swallow your pride and wash it down with a glass of formaldehyde
I’ll preserve the day the Earth fell, to symbolize how Atlas died
I’ve tried to rush the wormhole to deliver a eulogy
But the other eight planets follow me to stage a silent mutiny
No more – dodging shooting stars
No more – lashing of asteroid belts
No more – avoiding supernovas and fear of android wealth
If science and religion is the building block for a laughing stock
Then the foundation should crumble at the epicenter of the aftershock
The bow breaks at the vinyl spots
The cradle of all this crime rate drops
I’ve timed hate crops harvest to see if records of frisbees flop hardest
Well that would depend on the trajectory
And the way the projector projected me
I was a hologram waiting for wind to inherit merit discrepancy
Is it time for lift off?
I think go-go gadget propellers are prepared
Is it time for lift off?
The rocket fuel was at peak in mid-week
I think it’s time for lift off
The structural integrity seems to be holding
But three astronauts were found in a cockpit falling asleep
So will these thousand whispers ever hold a cleft note to sing?
Or will these blisters become targets of the scorpion king’s sting?
Because the poison invades the veins to the stages of Hume
I’ll take a rain check in the same breath of a checkmate – in three moves
I know everything is everything and nothing’s still something else
So I cleared my shelves of any signs of wealth to impress the elves
My neck it holds bricks that weighs down my liftoff
As a precaution I replaced the wood in the loft with something soft
Your windows – they look clear but my pane’s a stained glass
To dampen the impression of expression anything has
Do the hues you use, do they capture the pain my frame has?
Or are you caught in the faces we weave, scared to changes masks?
I’m the lawnmower man on a mission to slaughter the strange grass
But first I must erase cyberspace and rape the track before train pass
You strain cash
Well I take the root of evil, make tea
Patiently holding hands with anxiousness, I can already taste it
There’s the kettle whistle, interrupting my vision of rainbow bands
The steam scolding my hand
The mug shattered and I wasted it
Now if a picture’s worth a thousand words I painted a thousand pictures
On the beautiful backdrop of butterfly kisses
And let’s end this post on some great news. Illogic and Blueprint on working on a new Greenhouse Effect project! Look for that this Summer.