slug, the main propoenent of musical collective atmosphere, puts my life to words in such an eerily accurate fashion i don't know if my writing can even hold a candle to it's clarity. i sort of feel that way about all of hiphop, it is, in it's finest moments, modern poetry.

And when the vein start to pop from the blood
Pushed away from the heart
Patience, I need more, as my temper becomes tempted
To up and down on this seesaw
I should escape, I should disappear
Its gettin clear, crystal clear
I'm in a bad position here
I gave you power, gave you control
But you had to play the role
Reckless with the treasure that you hold
There isn't much as unsatisfying
as the blind man listening
Believing in the one that's lying
Hide the crying, tears in the pocket
A fool for the interlude that introduced the moshpit
Exhausted by the storm, before the calm
Holding on to a memory, keeping it warm within my palm

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