How much further
Wait for
your chance...
|
What lingers near… |
I Won’t Tell You Not To Worry |
|
I Won’t Tell You Not To Worry The Corruption of Humanity The Mystikal No Swing, No Thing |
Caught between, perfection,
insanity Or something, undone for benefit,
no Now you stand in wait, staying,
praying false hope Finding fear, torture wherever
gone, found Instinct lost, unconscious, yet
still hoping Darkness complete, overwhelm, I have
found Even so, despair deters logic,
no Nothing, help you none, just
insanity Curve your inability, help you,
no Emanate from your being, rings,
insane It still does nothing, I interfere,
hope Something standing, blocking,
you have not found Keep yourself, calm down, what
you may have Ease, but I won’t tell you not
to worry, You, help yourself, even in dark
of fear
- |
your chance for power…
|
The Corruption of Humanity |
|
|
Down from belief, searching for Each part of a life to attack Slapping their “rights” into
people Through the life of innocents Ruptured is man, man in creation Under watchful eyes, believing
something Can be bent, conformed to a will Tortured from past life to a new
“freedom” Incapacitation of lives, now
gone Out of existence is the true Nothing correct, proper, all
corrupted Other creations purged from life
itself From dusk to dawn, life is
broken Love, hate, despair nonexistent Interest all the same, emotion
deconstructed Fake is the life of humanity Equilibrium complete and
destroyed |
What can you hope to do?
Will you do what is necessary for you, or will the high road be your
master? Stay for more... If you are willing… If you are strong enough… The final task is yet to come for you. Are you ready for this task… -Or will
you be sent to the dogs with the rest of them? |
but something blocks you,
nothing but…
|
The Mystikal |
No Swing, No Thing |
|
Desperate beyond compare Enter the field of dreams Create beauty, perfection Out of innermost thought comes
greatness Nerve takes hold Sound the fanfare of utopia Trembling limbs relocate
direction Rings the bells of triumph Under that pressure of new
beginning Creating machines of sound The city quaking in our midst Inside destruction of paradise Nothing same, all passing Gone without a trace Understand the reflection Times past wondering Ongoing trance, break free Past recuperation, beyond pain Intake surroundings, Adapt to trails ahead, beauty
perfect |
If what is real, not real at
all, Gained imagination, Overtaken by the swing of life, Things change, Things adapt, Having confusion strip you of
realization Acting through impulse Trapped by barriers of your mind Slapped back from that swing Woken is your mind Impulse dies away Nothing lies before you Gaining nothing if not swung |