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there's a price we all pay, a rate of exchange to make ideas in our heads into art on a page the transfer takes place when you pick up the pen as the perfect idea leaves to corners of your head sinking in seas of sequence and memory fighting for life like overturned centipedes you grab life rafts before they all drown you save some, other words can't be found you write down tandems in random order stare at the ground but you keep pushing forward the ink takes shape of original thought a string of events becomes a story and a plot the story gets recorded, overdubbed and reworked cos your voice sounds boring when you form the words slam the door, take the stairs, give it time, let it happen work on form, get some air, say the lines, make the magic this is the song that you never wrote the words that stayed stuck in the back of your throat the ones that left the second that you picked up the pen the idea you had that you'll never get again frustrated with the nonsense that got on the page you made a promise to take a break and walk away is all you've got to say corny polysyllabics? and self-schematics like, âjust watch me establish Letras de cancionesmy place in the game with my name on the crownâ but the way you explain makes you sound like a clown in your head all the raps are the best on the record but the pen and the pad can't get it together so you let it develop, took some time to relax if your mind is detached then the rhymes'll come back as you're trying to step back, your head runs in circles so you grab a scrap from the back of your journal turn to the side as the words blur in time which went where, how did I finish that line? the words aren't working, syllables out of place your eyes are burning and the page is still blank it's painting a scene, a flame flickers and burns what came as a dream is conveyed in the words out of my element, I rap for the hell of it close my eyes and feel beats like Helen Keller did, consensus is my penmanship could use less senselessness the rhetoric's irrelevant, seperate from sentences developing intelligence makes a fan tell a friend so you can circle earth the same way that Magellan did Africa, Asia, New York to san diego on the way change your world vu like deja from draining Bacardi at basement parties to going back home where they still call me Charlie to phone calls from buses, fraternity rushes earning nothing, still trying to work a budget am I learning something, each show with new kids who came to sip drinks but don't hear the music? right now it's too loud and the lights are too low quiet things I won't know, just go on with the show this is the song that never gets written trapped in the back of your mind like a prison trying to see through the fog in your hell finally finding the key and unlocking the cell hum the instrumental, tap your feet to the tempo your favorite song was once just lead in a pencil a piano stroke, a couple notes in a margin organized into lines in the mind of an artist lying on the carpet and trying to get it started or driving and writing, finding himself carsick stop to vomit in garbage, but he can't lose that flow words are seeds in a garden, need to leave room to grow planted in rows, they need strength from the sunlight so he can't sleep til the beat is coming just right just like the words, first they're blank canvas as the colors swirl and explode like a canon load up the handgun, metaphors in the clip ignore the corporal's orders and perform it to kids Lawrence and Trish were origins of my life but it's this mind that made the dormant arise From Letras Mania