Artist: Marlowe
Album:  Marlowe
Song:   Lost Arts
Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com, Marlowe

{ON PAGE ONE}

"I hear something"
 "It's coming from below"
"I think you've become mad"
 "Almost as if something is moving below us"
"Act a little peculiar, and you're uh... an outsider"
"Perhaps you've always been mad"

[Intro: Solemn Brighan]
Uh-huh, we interrupt this program to bring you a live broadcast
from the Western Funk but now resurrecting lost arts
("Shit... Don't you feel it??")
Brigham

[Solemn Brigham]
Revolution is knocking, resolution is knowledge
Get your hand out my pocket, no weapon made can conquer
my inner pain, I started my evolution of rhyming
Persecuted, indicted, they instituted the violence
that started my defiance, give no respect or alliance
Less men +Get Rich+ than ones who +Die Tryin'+
Less making commitments, dollars have no bias
Show you how to move in a den full of lions
If the dinner ain't cooking, you gotta know where to find it
Even if you paint pretty, you can't change the climate
In my inner sanctum, my hard work is thankless
Bold print the statement:
I could show you something that's suited for ALL ages
Back when I used to hide the heist in crawlspaces
All for the cause to blank slate your faces
From the sentence to cemetery
Real-life visionary, not preliminary
My kingdom is ruled by vikings
Why we can't have nice things
When that hunger rings watch how they resort to biting
Why I look crookedly, took from me everything
Off the rope and out the tree to Washington Booker T
Watch the way you talk to me because I speak awfully
Even when mocking me, you gotta do it awkwardly
Often dark thoughts be giving me these allergies
When I sneeze, who's gonna bless me?
Counted one blessing and then it got depressing
Not down to get seen with your team, stop suggesting we
Make it our business to see and remain different
Same day, different dark feeling, black state of living
Counterfeits keep trying to hack my religion
Every night I pray let all but the wack be forgiven
Aye, my igna, you're nobody til they make a wax figure
Rap cinema, call the minister, what I administer is sinister
Pivotal, pitiful, criminal, lyrical prisoner
Remember the signature when I deliver the finisher
Born and risen with Menace miniatures
Dropped dead center in this sinner's dilemma
Don't make fun of the surface, they just ain't used to the tremors
Why I keeping a sweet life, my pocket'o bitters
Makes my air a bit thinner, I'm what remains on the filter
You should be more considerate, pay your anguish a visit
Raided the village just to make the place more militant
Painted an image and I don't give a Braille who feeling it
Nailed the sentiment while I'm out breaking my ligaments
Snatching your block's citizens, filling them with degenerates

("Mad! Mad!")
("I'm hearing things... or seein' things!
 ...Or not seeing it, I'm getting outta here!")