june 11th, saturday, we were laughin', 1 year later,
it took me 21 years to make this album.
but i did 3/4ths of it in the last 2 weeks.
notebooks after phone calls, cars lined up to be extinguished in the office place.
embarcadero is the biggest mauseleum imaginable,
this house can't stay clean.
too many superstars on the rug, too many tags on the fog on the mirror.
this is it, and i can see them when i see me.
reflection is relative, nothing can be finished by then.
these phone bills pile up, forgotten half of the convos anyway.
sole is idol worship, these songs are all different sides of me,
i dont know if that's a good or a bad thing.
but this is cleansing, a baptism in babylon.
a broken bottle of humans where idiosyncrasies are fiestas.
it's party time, and i forgot my hip-hop hat,
cut off all the heads quietly naked screaming for attention.
used to wear my ego as a sweater,
now it's the cape that follows me throughout the atmosphere.
keep your eyes to the ground, swallow your pride.
talk to the voices in your head.
how did the alarm get 2 hours ahead?
it's been like that for a minute, my hands are dirty.
and somehow i manage to separate that from the keyboards and melodies
that swallow up my fantasies.
smoke on these phrasings, i dont wanna be amazing.
just leave me, so i can record album number 6 next month,
and always remain inspired.

i'd promise the outro but i don't want to spoil the moment
i'd promise the outro but i don't want to spoil it...

i picture chubby deaf girls dancing in a black and white freeze frame.
i hear galaxies as communities i shall never see.
oh no, it's those creatures with the big heads and eyes and they're coming for me.
i think of pages burning, and lots of light beaming from an unseen source.
i'm more like this giant making boquets,
the bullet just entered and she entering pain.
it don't rain, it splatters, that's why my data remains after the pain.
don't blame me if all my songs sound the same.
i'm a product of envy and turmoil roller coasting insane.
trying to change the world 5 pages at a time,
calling green lights stops signs, it's all aura laborious.
my aura and story is static like clouds are sculptures.
humanity is too much cotton candy.
here's some food for thought in digestion decompose.
we compose, here's another patented product for your collection.
language is action packed, come on let's picnic,
and nitpick between factions, fact, fiction and mineral.
sink fast, the uprise goes on without us.
i'm all ears, all here, blind to you and your puppeteer.
everyday is truman show,
true men show their face and expose flesh.
who made the cut? my pen is the sax, so the horn blows the grand scheme. relax.

i'd promise the outro but i don't have any time.
i'd promise the outro but this is only the beginning...

sole is the protocol, sex symbol, fly on the wall.
this a pre-emptive strike, match struck.
awestruck beyond comparison, white collar barbarian,
telling the librarian; these are the papers to bury the sky.
it's christmas time, bring in styrofoam cups filling outside of the lines.
these are scribbles for an older exhausted pulse.
it's the return of the never been there.
give me 5 minutes we'll melt you're 12 dollars we stupid crackhead cupids.
milking the earth for what it's worth, with my family or single handedly.
this hand breaks things, this hand molds things.
son i'm in my own shadow,
the mold that breaks the glass.
your ears are my walls and these are mere paragraphs.
follow the architect, sure we're erecting art and texture.
now sole is only human, enjoy my imperfections.
put a red dot on that, slaughtering articles, pen and pixeling particles.
here's your entry, posing makes participants feel practiced, so keep them skills dull.
i bang symbolism off doldrums and still spare minutes.
check my postcards these are letters from god.
i've been practicing this face for centuries.
these are acts of pretention.
i've been practicing this face for centuries.
how you like my grill?
how you like my smile?
i've been practicing this face for centuries and i'll be like this for a minute.