Meet the lion tamer, The wire-walker, the fire-eater The ring leader and cage cleaner, That's the whole goddamn circus Plus the inner workings of its purpose As conveniently obscured by a marquee'd surface Where there's bears on bikes And the flawed part of the god particle The raw starter of the of a whole new odd model This is not a drill and not your run-of-the-mill natural disaster this the atom smasher, galaxy collapser says the waxer intellectual, rebuttals ineffectual, I bet you all a pretty penny this'll see you bitter enemies one spitting seminars, the other sitting sedentary some'll skip the pleasantries and go straight to the seminary now I'm Burmese royalty but Anglo-Saxon And I line up my next shot with the angled backspin Yo, you heard 'bout those newfangled brain scans that claim to tell an average jack from a rain man? Oh, you have? Well then how do you explain that? Yeah me neither, maybe it's time to wear a foil hat Or maybe all of it's just latter-day phrenologists And my cortex glows red gets defensive of its solipsism And functional MRIs are reminiscent of Rorschach blots And that's just a coincidence but brings premonitions of more bad thoughts Like my conviction's just convection driven by a single little candle flame The rest is just brownian motion In a random game Can I expand the frame?

At the end of a long night when ghosts walk with impunity and there's no wrong or right and there was no talk of immunity when giants walk in fraternities science talks to eternity no, I am not lying, I am on an emergency mission I traditionally lip service the urgency But this all first perfectly, dripping with binge-perjury the earth turned to me and said in all sincerity "I'm losing magic fast into the sky the more you stare at me!" Now I'm using magic and so I can fly and my temerity just mounts with every mountain flying by so far down there beneath my little airborne feet, aloft on thermals I in turn will turn from foot soldier to colonel With the foot-soles of a turtle I see good souls glowing purple Standing stones cloned in a circle megalithic gods with terrific odds writ in glyphic dots and each positioned in specific spots I anticipate that this will cause horrific rot And if I am thinking straight then this has got implicit truth but if I am missing something this is not a wise pursuit I'm high as a flute on bite-sized bison and lion soup whatever I can shoot as long as it's not too cute! now this is the last average legend of a free quest and this is the last man to genuinely be blessed in the lineup for free sex, crying "me next! me next!" we'll rip up the floor tiles and excavate the T-rex Now that's a hell of an elephant in the bedroom I can tell you're gonna dwell on some irrelevant says-who 'til my eleventh hour elevator to Neptune has gone chapter eleven, relegated to rescue And it's been a long night of goblins chattering The doggone caterwauling Shoggoth splatter-causing sawed-off scatter-shot has gone off to greener pastures and now we face a much meaner master an impudent and inconsistent self to clean up after So go flock to the rafters don't talk to the strangers rope off the corners don't block the stairs lock down the borders send Tom to the Mayor It's been fun for an evening But this dawn is welcome Daybreak before hell come And leave us all well done And this is the last average legend that we tell sons And daughters 'til the droppers of the bombs hit where the bell hung and I can smell some kind of freeze-dried no-one and go all ogreish like "Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum!" And spit the distance like a blowgun, but that's no fun, so come and split the difference like a throw down with a shogun

And it's been a long night of unanswered rain dances take insane chances in vain and strike strange stances so we await with achy limbs and brain cancers ask ourselves a question and get back an inane answer If I pray backwards, can I eat the higher power? I am now a liar, I am now a plumber with a fire flower pleading hard got me a leading part misleading art so bleeding hearts are being artless leaving marks upon their leading starts and I'm never parking this detoxifying wagon meaning this is the last average legend of a giant dragon and I'm dragging this here train of thought to coffin straight from bassinet of mud millennia ago that's where amino acids met if that's not dust to dust I guess I don't know what that adage meant I'm restless, she's a keeper, like a sleeper never had a bed not a toy, shoot 'em dead 'attaboy, move ahead do it to the end like you're pursuing the elusive bread better settle bets 'cause you're a goner in the fight of all the little differences between your song and mine if i'm sloppy in the morning, if I cough and yawn and bite I just need coffee, after all, it's been a long damn night

Mr. Synesthesia please I gotta seize ya lean ya like a Piza tomb ya like a Giza loser screaming Bees! Ahh! dude please ease up gonna have a seizure and i'm not fucking helping ever seen a vid where a seagull ate a pelican? hell no! well then, this'll be inelegant relegate the emcee's soul back to hell again tell him it's a felony if he's not a metalhead but Synesthesia don't want candy sometimes indulges in wine gums and brandy and who needs acid i got rancid canned meat plus I double-up when the airport scan me i'm gonna be a fucking x-man any day now eyes spraying rays out, mind flayer fake out i'm the beta test for the omega man popping in on keggers and, dropping in the beggar's can hopping with a leg in hand, gonna need a peg to stand tapped out for the night, chewing stegosaurus spikes calling on the onslaught before the fort is fortified got 'em saying syne's got a big voice for his height more than i bargained for, darkened corners bore forth dark barked orders Synesthesia visions got him cutting through the door or running from the blood wave pouring down the corridor freebasing mace laced with pepto and ectoplasm knew i'd get erect but really didn't expect orgasm Syne' never get sick of media went to check a name and spent the day on wikipedia couldn't move, it was Synesthesia-plegia near catatonia, ether and ammonia someday i'm'a flee to Patagonia, either that or Coney Island i'm still deciding, but it won't be for a while in any case, till then I'm eating at a steady pace ready set stop like the heavyset cops or the petty despot gonna get some heads chopped and some letterhead stock, yeah printed on thick paper and nice staplers legitimizing capers dreamt of Mick Jagger with a mickey of Jaeger drunk to a stagger and his dick shot lasers he was fucking crazy had to hit him with a tazer getting flipped-off by some pissed-off haters

man, this kid's tweaking yo Serf, I think your synth's bleeding arm in a splint, needing stitches where its lip's leaking ask the drums: what's up? they said it happened so suddenly but we put up a good fight you should have seen the other beat now the baseline's black and blue needing face time with shellac and glue I'm in space time, better let me get back to you on that, cat's be hopping onto Serf tech all willy-nilly you silly hillbillies, these tracks is for the terminally ill like me and my sick friend Serf needing pills (kill me!) bedridden, staring at the ceiling guts spilling it's a proud affliction the sound of friction when my words spark the crowd addiction like a matchstick in a powder kitchen known to be bewitching villages with the dark arts and mark hearts for cherub shots, Marcus Carab got curare darts and a regimen of terracotta warriors and four canopic jars - he's prepared to rot

my lips are blue parted just enough to whisper through don't misconstrue this, or kisses-kisses coochie-coo this no don't be a necrophiliac my skin's the pale green of verdigris and celeriac i'm at perigee when you hear me snap just carry me to the back and bury me in a sack (a potato sack) yeah, i know they know that and they know that I know they know so they know it might go waco, pray it don't like pandemic kids stand by each other's beds and truth fucks beauty with her hands tied above her head one cut the other bled and now invention's forgetting everything his mother said oh shit, that's another one dead summer hung it's head and I succumbed to where the drummer led just keep me dumb and fed and I will gladly come to bed if i'm numb and all thumbs just feed me crumbs and rum instead and bleed me till I'm running red then leave me here to mumble as I crumble into nothingness and i know every inch of this here ceiling i missed this giddy restless kiddy christmas morning feeling and I don't see the need for kneeling wearing mourning veils cause as I'm turning pale hurting and frail I find it more and more appealing (i don't need your healing touch i'm feeling much much better every day) it's embarrassing to see you pray so I am leaving soon but not today and maybe not tomorrow but it can't be far away so trade your sorrow in for borrowed joy and patchwork satisfaction mine's the winning faction and in fact I'm still missing in action losing traction moving past the point of no return and oozing passion i knew two before me one that burrowed one that burned now one's spinning in his grave and one's a cyclone in his urn i won't be resurrecting won't be jesus christing, phoenix rising me and mine is feeling fine it's you who's stuck and still alive

nice shot - close but no stogie bogey on six and he twist like a yogi this little Mowgli was raised by cyborgs in cyclopean cities that made my eye sore IV drains the vein's divine ichor zygote, bacilli and cilia i'd die for divide by four, decant and knock it back chase it with a lime and then if we can, we're walking back now my mind races like car chases or Scarfaces smashing rocks against hard places that sure makes my choice easy the god blood burps making my voice greasy until i get wheezy all caught up in the Rhyme Circus spitting till i'm dumb and then i still deliver mime verses i spend breath like it's perversion until the climax is felt it's my version of choking myself with a belt noblesse oblige is hopeless hoping and praying won't evoke dopeness i do no less and no more than i have to and maybe occasionally take a bath too but every time i do i'm interrupted by eureka moments never met another who was not a weak opponent dontcha get it? Marcus see a moment and he live in it fuck all of the ticking clocks who really think he give a shit and i could sing a song of honour courage and persistence but mostly I admit I take the path of least resistance and i could sing a song of electricity and fingertips but mostly i admit i only pick the chick with bigger hips and lips and telltale rips in her satin slips and makes frequent freudian ones, never annoyed by puns i've been talking a lot, it's getting hot in here, you feel it, yeah? or maybe it's just me and my autovoxaphilia i just aint got no choice I love the sound of my own voice i love the sound of your voice too let's drown out all those other fools who's spitting nothing worth attention shout 'em down without a mention they so quiet we so loud and I really love the sound i just aint got no choice I love the sound of my own voice i love the sound of your voice too let's drown out all those other fools who's wasting breath on empty words have you listened have you heard even with all of this noise I love the sound of my own voice i hope my spine don't crack 'cause i'll be spitting till my eyes roll back and i go blind as a bat and be fine with that as long as i can still listen to my rhyme flow and wonder where the time go just put the mic in my hand or get me to the stand slip a twenty to the band tell 'em anything fucked up ought a do the trick turn the kick drum up and make the bass line sick it's the base by which I calibrate my pitch and i take my pick though fate might bitch in the circus, entering the centre ring say hello to Marcus, better than just about everything spitting on the jerryrigged Serf-tech rocket asked him for a beat and he checked his pockets full of witch doctor concoctions that'll make you ill [blended only by experts with great skill]

and you'll be sting sick quick I'm'a split your perspective in two a wrist-flick, twist you into pretzels dissect you 'cause I'm the tick-tick-tick before synaptic potential goes boom this trick, finger on the trigger you figure I flunked drama, I can't fake-laugh or force tears another day another dollar make that Four More Years or eight, sixteen, thirty-two a dirty few in the trenches two kicking on the benches ten tangled in the tension almost palpable yeah you could cut it with a knife or just butter it with life hunk of the guttermuck on both sides some run from storms other pluck up courage end up fucked up, buried in a rubble bubble, huddled up with the dumb luck, some duck others jump into the stirrups with a click-click rattle of spurs and some hurry up and quick-pick others with lucky numbers worry

my my, I'm beside sky, and space-adjacent i'm'a sit here and critique the placement of the constellations like: fuck you! that aint no lion I aint buying it, now be quiet i prefer count the stars in silence one, two, three, four... fuck it - to hell with that i'ma run up there and Pierce it like poor suckers stuck on helipads that's quite the panoply for what is just a canopy and this is like insanity for all intents and vanities purposeless and more or less courseless lost out where the dolphin gangs mug porpoises of course this is what courses between choruses you're lucky it's not corsets and deforested clitorises tomorrow it's important to retain some engorgement in the brain and divorce it from the pain it's sorta morbid, but it sticks Drink Marcus Carab's Miracle Mind Enhancing Tonic you dumb hicks! they bought it with one click, that's some trick i'm quicker than your risk factors and asterisks and i don't care if he fumble the drumstick i'm rhyming when it's nothing but one snare and one kick and what if i hit it splitting ozones, i am MC CFC they're gonna be livid when it's doomsday and I got the BFG i'm gonna be sitting on a satellite at night and gravity won't dare defy me no I'm rising 'til the sky's beside me

Mr. Synesthesia, come to grin and please ya in a leisure suit to shoot the wind or breeze of indonesian coffee bean, sloppy dream of sin to freeze your skin to knees-a whoops sneezed-a, gezundheit or bless you this one try to impress you got all high on the spice rack then switch that to serf tech i'm not about to bite that metalfingered hand that feeds the flesh epiglott' i'm spitting spices on the harvest that the Serf is serving hot because i can't stop myself getting fatter on the crop of Datura Stramonium harmoniously dropped and slopped up on the plate like oh so much Devil's Snare dishevelled hair, well aware like knows what level's fair that's Mr. Synesthesia sense fuser with ease-a emcee who smell beats, feel notes and taste keys-a plus hear colour, feared culler of the duller swatches watches too much TV but so media greedy besides he see's it in 3D and need his feed speedy rich and switched twice weekly with a bitch to buy him cheezies and read up in the kitchen look at pics of YM teenies and keep up her depiction why she do it? (yeah why) she's bewitched by his steezies so that much was easy plus the condo's nice and breezy and can't resist the kiss of lips that's mescaline, peyote tips and Psylocibe Baocystis she call him Synesthesia Thistle-Tongue wants a new little one he tells her "you're too brittle hun!" some Mr. Syn riddle fun: what do you call a man who scrawls and rants, hears voices and appalls his fans? you might guess brain schizophrenic but then you don't get it that's like Maine is to Venice Archaic to Hellennic plain infectious to carcinogenic extra-absorbant surface, purpose and heart of skeptic a Synesthesia in your synapse i teach y'all to fly then clip your wings and watch the grin lapse with more mishaps, than borne out of a thin gap and more world tours than there's toxic spores in caps I think that's a million or so, and feeling so rapt he knows his own rap flow's wrapped up in a fat bow but necktie's a four-in-hand sword and a warring clan and you's just a boring man out whoring in a foreign land so I'm shutting down the lines of communication like this puny nation, well it's ripe for invasion what you doing making screwfaces? be patient and if you don't like what y'alls watching you can change the station 'cause this shits downright amazing and if y'all feel complacent but your mind's still all racing well then that's just the pacing of your veins making ways in to rain out your brain like the great lakes basin and I'd make a great mason or a decent Scientologist 'cause reason, rhyme and logic isn't feeding my apologistic following who swallow it like i'm a gossip columnist with hip-hop and Hyssop that kicked off the solipsistic wallowing that's taller than the wall around the lot of it i bet you wish you'd thought of it and hopped on in the pot with it the socket in my occiput is hooked up for the recharge i look up and see far, Mr. Synesthesia

switch to necessity, the mother of frugality get downright miserly, wise up, the beat's too ballad-y but still ill-fresh like a new malady he don't win friends, nah, the meat's too salad-y and broke his Benz, he's gonna need two salaries then to street nude gallery to meet lewd Valerie with a hope in his head that he's gonna squeeze two mammaries and hold gold split-ends, then Synesthesia move calories he breathed and grew taller, holler to his peeps, a crew of ballers all of whom freaked and threw "my my, non, messieurs!" the fine wine connoisseurs'll drink the brew scholars under the table ...so I says to Mabel, I says you unstable, label it done now we'll unscramble this Babel Fish somehow until then put the gun down, come now, and I'll give y'all the rundown the fun starts at sundown, I already got some ground like a dollar in the couch crack when you're broke and try to milk'er bought a single loosie fifty cent shit smoke and lit the filter felt ill like a Tilt-A-Whirl and got a lizard stuck in gizzard wanna clip and suck it thicker can't find the fucking scissors sock to the kisser, miss a ho's lunch of cooties dude, he's so hunched and moody, throwing mo' Punch than Judy but neither too arty nor crass for a rising rhymer don't be a smartypants, or a wisenheimer the mean Pied Piper, like a keen-eyed sniper viper green, clean as a whistle, make it seem simple between dimples of a lean-cut scene slut dreaming up free... what? she slip into a clean wimple ...and squeeze her pimples hit a toughie with a sewing needle knowing that her glow alone's enough to keep a hold on people but knowing growing old and stuffy's gonna blow the sequel drove her to the bluffy, and broke the mould as equals wrestle with the inevitable, leave me a vegetable a topiary man, fans'll grope with hairy hands saying "oh he's very grand!" 'til he's broke and barely stands, he and his dope & merry band'll put they hope in fairy land where the eyes both glow but the wide grin's cold told him: "sign each line and set the rhyme in bold!" now that time won't flow 'cause the lie's been sold like: "I don't know, but I been told!" so don't make me say it twice, the diatribe's getting old could you both maybe pay the price for eyes on my centrefold? this aint a library, my ferry got a toll the sly, scary monopole with ties on the honour roll ...yeah now he's on a roll seven straight sevens off a chip that he stole but he never say never to the chick on the pole so eleven days later he's a bit in the hole very very much like an itch in the soul a witch and a troll under a bridge with a toll a frigid hit of cold in the middle of the fold and an itty-bitty smidgen of a vision so pigeonholed so unoriginal, been there and done that impaired and hunchbacked, in his spare sun hat run back to mum, cats, he's developed recipe for smothering the brothers and the mothers of necessity

up, like up late, though... gotta be up early but, fuck it, let's do it up with the hair up nice 'n curly or head up north soak up starlight on the front porch hell I'm up for it we leave at sunup straight upwards i just picked up some shit i gotta grind up nah fuck that man, i aint gonna line up just to sign up like one of them dudes who sucked a line up and just lit up and when to gym to hit up the girls that do situps c'mon, perk up, cheer up, buck up slugger though sure you done fucked up and mussed up your brothers got your stuffed up mother all puffed up and flustered waiting up for nine nights, like, straighten up and fly right got up there was like put up the tent, my oh my but he came up bare she upped and went, fine don't get all uppity i've had it up to here, it's bugging me my inflamed upper knee's done fucked up my day's routine i wake up and scream like: quick, bake up some green! its tough enough makeup keeping up this sheen don't get wound up or all churned up I found us a bud to burn up so quick now round the herd up some'll get lost, but they'll turn up the upscale citizen unfailing vitamins lifting him who sped up n' fast tracked it, to the upper tax bracket, but getting up there yeah, hair brushed up stunning & grey like the pre-planned casket for the up-up-and-away!