Jolly McJollyson
01-27-2006, 03:08 AM
So I'm writing yet another song...rap again, I really enjoy writing rap lyrics, they're very free and flowing, and allow a much better vein for expression.
Some Kind of Robot:
Veins chilled with an oil that runs sleek and steady
Deadly mercury pumping through his heart makes his thoughts heavy
An oozing metal, liquid and cold
Pumps through ventricles of lead hardened when told
That a life, a voice, a soul, a heart, a mind could be sold
The money changers build their temples out of silver and gold
Ultimate white collar job whose god is their own hold
On power, self-advancement as well,
The self-serving aren't aware they're gonna see you in hell
A lake of fire, burns with undying wrath
Bathing sinners in it's molten rock, a volcanic bath
of ash, and reddened stone makes your skin melt
Your flesh is bubbling and you try to ignore what you just felt
Suppress the pain with your body's sudden slip into shock
And though you wake from this nightmare will you put on your frock
without guilt?
Is that how you were built?
Manufactured like a robot with an interest in filth?
Idolaters, Idolotry I stand your accuser,
So wash your hands and just ignore it like a power abuser
Would, because it's your moral fiber
Follow the path of the wicked like rats follow the pied piper.
The bellies of rodentia slowly scraping the ground
And the god that you pray to neither yellow nor brown
Not purple, green, or blue or white and not even red,
but gold, and a crown of glory donning his head
The glory yours, unearned and unfounded
For eons were your trumpet calls of victory sounded
So, not nearly done, that's just the first verse and I'm probably gonna trash it all. Lemme know what you think.
Some Kind of Robot:
Veins chilled with an oil that runs sleek and steady
Deadly mercury pumping through his heart makes his thoughts heavy
An oozing metal, liquid and cold
Pumps through ventricles of lead hardened when told
That a life, a voice, a soul, a heart, a mind could be sold
The money changers build their temples out of silver and gold
Ultimate white collar job whose god is their own hold
On power, self-advancement as well,
The self-serving aren't aware they're gonna see you in hell
A lake of fire, burns with undying wrath
Bathing sinners in it's molten rock, a volcanic bath
of ash, and reddened stone makes your skin melt
Your flesh is bubbling and you try to ignore what you just felt
Suppress the pain with your body's sudden slip into shock
And though you wake from this nightmare will you put on your frock
without guilt?
Is that how you were built?
Manufactured like a robot with an interest in filth?
Idolaters, Idolotry I stand your accuser,
So wash your hands and just ignore it like a power abuser
Would, because it's your moral fiber
Follow the path of the wicked like rats follow the pied piper.
The bellies of rodentia slowly scraping the ground
And the god that you pray to neither yellow nor brown
Not purple, green, or blue or white and not even red,
but gold, and a crown of glory donning his head
The glory yours, unearned and unfounded
For eons were your trumpet calls of victory sounded
So, not nearly done, that's just the first verse and I'm probably gonna trash it all. Lemme know what you think.