Algorythme + Remission - sunset​/​/​sunrise

by l'Algorythme

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about

La musique de L'Algorythme: lourde en échantillons de jazz, funk, bossa, disco endurcit par des rythmes électroniques et de vrais drum

avec la voix et la poésie de Remission: le meilleur flow originaire de la Côte-Nord ever!!

credits

released October 19, 2013

graphisme: Gabrielle Godbout
musique et un peu de voix: l'algorythme
voix: Remission

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all rights reserved

about

l'Algorythme Montreal, Québec

After 8 years L'Algorythme is still here...
Producing a nice collection of sampling-heavy frankenstein- hip-hop mutant-disco beats.
l'Algorythme is like Johnny 5 ( of the movie Short Circuit 2) when he rebuilds himself as a crazy ass punk robot after being attacked by 2 motherfuckers.
... more

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Track Name: Sunrise
I got a bit of money, with not much to show.
I got a few friends, with no place to go.
Living in a home, where the coffee is cold.
Getting drunk, getting stoned, yeah i’m getting old.
Hanging out, with the pigeons and the black crows.
Sitting on the building, hundreds in a row.
We all try to hold on, let go and fall.
The city glows at dawn, sunrise in Montreal.

Old school bike, along the Lachine canal.
Riding for like, miles and miles and miles.
Into the sunset into the sunrise a trip to the other side.
Hold on tight, and close your eyes.
I lie on my back, stare straight into the sky.
Watch the clouds, slowly drift on by.
Analyze the mind state, open wide and take dive.
Escape from reality, and truly feel alive.
Deep inside of my own skull, I found.
That I keep warm, cups of coffee, and ink by the pound.
A full ashtray and empty bottles of wine.
Good times with friends and family and a couple of rhymes.
Books of poetry, papers full of notes.
Portraits of nobody, and Jim Morrison quotes.
Paint splattered across the horizon, illuminate the skyline.
It’s never too late to stop, but sometimes...
You just gotta keep going …
And remember there will always be a sunrise, in the morning.

I got a bit of money, with not much to show.
I got a few friends, with no place to go.
Living in a home, where the coffee is cold.
Getting drunk, getting stoned, yeah i’m getting old.
Hanging out, with the pigeons and the black crows.
Sitting on the building, hundreds in a row.
We all try to hold on, let go and fall.
The city glows at dawn, sunrise in Montreal.
Track Name: Ink By The Pound
I got words by the million, I got Ink by the pound.
The name is Remission, with the Algorythme’s sounds.
They say, Dumb it down, dilute the substance.
Dissolve and drown out the calculated increments.
Spoon feed the masses, regulate the dosage.
The music industry, is held hostage.
Burn the empire, destroy the city.
Light the torch, bridges disappear in the sea.
Writing your story, drawing your portrait.
Produce the soundtrack for a life that's cinematic.
The radio waves are filled with static.
it’s tragic, what happened to all the good music.
All the classics, that raised an entire generation.
All the artists, that we consider an inspiration.
They've all come and gone, vanished and disappeared.
Today so much garbage, is being shoved down our ears.
Its been too many years, that hip hop is dying
Its been too many tears, too much lying.
But with ink by the pound, I’ll be writing down everything.
From the tip of the pen, to the end of the beginning.

The vinyl crackles, the record is spinning,
The needle drops, and the music starts playing.
Drums and lush keys, dust on the melody
An emcee flowing with the rhythm and poetry.
The ink drips, right out of me.
All of this art accumulates over centuries.
Until you’re buried, under your body of work and creativity.
And all your free time is spent, writing words, and living inside on your head.
Too often you heard, her tell you, its time to come to bed.
But you can’t fall asleep, can’t shut-off the mind.
Dreaming that you're making beats and writing rhymes.
So tired, but still scribbling ideas and concepts.
Papers full of notes, making sure you won't forget.
Its getting late, but your still inspired, to write.
Ink drips from the feather tip, throughout the night.
With ink by the pound, we’ll be writing down everything (X 3)
Its the Algorythme, & Remission.
Track Name: Pizza King
Her name tag, read Samantha.
Full cleavage, bags under her eyes.
Outrageous outfit, wreaks of marijuana
Serves everyone for cheap with no extra on the side.
Don’t be surprise, if you get a pain your gut.
Unsanitary stuff,
With no quality, just in for the bucks.
Good luck, keeping a satisfied customer, who won’t throw-up.
When you don’t even bother, no you don’t even care.
Prepackaged frozen dinner, with no savoir-faire.
Bloated stomach, feeling nauseous.
No pride in the work, no smile, no service.
Its hard to imagine that they’re still in business.
Its ridiculous, that people can actually still bite into this.
Even though its force fed, and shoved down the esophagus.
She lifted up her head, and open her lips.
And said.............................................................

What's special?
Pizza Pizza Daddy-o
Disco Dancing
Pizza Pizza Daddy-O

The girl at the register, finally took my order.
Two slices of cheap pizza, over the counter.
Her hair was greasy, her face was sweaty.
She said to me, that will be 4.50$.
No please, and no thank yous.
Just that same old, fast food attitude.
Next, I get, Rude, behavior,
From the dude, with hands covered in flour.
White powder, all the way up to his nose.
Throwing up, and flashing the dough...
With his gold chains and diamond rings.
But he doesn't know, that i’m the pizza king.
I told them, if the ingredients are fresh,
and you take your time to make it just right.
You don’t need the marketing,
The special deals, and all those neon lights.
They both laughed, and where like...

What's special?
Pizza Pizza Daddy-o
Disco Dancing
Pizza Pizza Daddy-O

One, you got to start with the crust. its a must.
Two, make sure you spread that sauce evenly too.
Three, believe you me, you got to have cheese, please.
Four, well that's left to the discretion of you and yours....
Track Name: Less Is More
Less is more, and more is less.
But yet, we all seem, to forget.
We get lost in what's complex.
Distracted by the dreams, reality we neglect.
Bring it back to the basic, back to the roots.
Back to the music, that's what we got to do.
The abstract and poetic, authentic and original.
Rap like you mean it, let flow from your ventricles.
A confused population, all follow the same route.
Produced the soundtrack of our lives, poisoned the youth.
I walked in the same shoes, made the same mistakes.
I got greedy along the way too, I just wanted to take.
But now I’m living by Occam's razor, the simpler the better.
I got a mind of imagination, a body of matter.
Focus harder on all the subtle details of the day.
Find appreciation in whatever comes your way.

Forget, all that you know ... Remember what you ignore.
Just let, it all go … Less is more.
Forget, all that you know ... Remember what you ignore.
Just let, it all go … Because ...

I know that I got to go to work.
But sometimes I just don’t want too.
I just want to stay at home.
Lie down in bed, with absolutely nothing to do.. Its true.
I listen to talk radio, stare out the window.
Play my moms old records, watch them spin slow.
So I guess i’m an old soul, who drinks gin and tonic.
I like my ink black, just like my licorice.
Static reception, got to fix the TV antenna.
Chilling in my slippers, bathrobe, and Pajamas.
A monthly bus pass, to get me from point A to point B.
Green and orange line, travel through the heart of the city.
I’m a simple man, that's what I am.
I hope that you can, just try to understand.
Where I’m coming from, take a walk in these shoes.
Look through these eyes, to get a better view.

Forget, all that you know ... Remember what you ignore.
Just let, it all go … Less is more.
Forget, all that you know ... Remember what you ignore.
Just let, it all go … Because ...
Track Name: Kids Just Wanna Party
Kids just want to party all the time.
Everything is good everything is fine.
Don’t think about anything, just free your mind.
Its the end of the week, have a glass of wine.
Have a few beers, smoke a dozen joints.
Pop some pills, and snort a couple of bumps.
Don't start complaining if you're feeling woozy.
Even if the room is spinning, and you're going crazy.
Flipping your lid, spilling the beans.
A tongue full of acid, rag drenched in gasoline.
Dopamine receptors, explode.
Brain on drugs, can’t process can’t load.
Everything is moving slow,
Shoes in the bathtub, alcohol in the snow.
I guess it got a little out of control.
Knock at the door, I hope its not the 5-0.

Kids just want to party, yeah don’t you ?
Kids just want to party, that's all they do !
Kids just want to party, yeah, it’s true.
Kids just want to party, until the night is through.

I told you these kids just want to party.
Go crazy and drink some Bacardi.
They’re all in the clubs looking for some love.
Or on the streets, trying to buy drugs.
Waiting in a line up in the middle of winter.
Mandatory coat check, for like 10 dollars.
Dancing on the speakers, making out in the corner.
Sitting at the bar, with the other thirsty creatures.
A round of applause and a round of shots.
Vodka, Rum, and Whiskey on the rocks.
Gordon, & Hendricks dry gin.
I can’t even remember how last night begins.
I know that It ends with a blur,
Just ask the cab driver.
Who greeted me with a middle finger.
Slurred a few words, to the waitress at the diner.
And politely asked her,
If she had a cure for hangovers.
She smiled, and gave me a glass of water.
And I just shrugged my shoulders.
I passed out on the couch, like an hour later.


Kids just want to party, yeah don’t you ?
Kids just want to party, that's all they do !
Kids want to party, yeah, it’s true.
Kids want to party, until the night is through.
Track Name: Les Super Étoiles Du Ballon-Panier
I started off a QEHS Wildcat.
Wearing a red jersey and number 5.
Ended up a Massey-Vanier Viking.
Changed teams, same color as my family`s eyes.
Playing as a guard, setting up the plays.
Practice twice a week, games on Saturdays.
Three man weave, running suicides.
Traveling with the team, we all felt so alive.
I was a king on the court, a clutch player.
Playing street ball, competing against all these strangers.
A couple of broken fingers, stitches and sprained ankles.
Waking up in pain, cause of cramps in my calf muscles.
Mini-basketball hoop in my room, I would play for hours.
Watching NC double A, and the Toronto Raptors !!!
Started the sport because of my older brother.
In the driveway, playing one on one against each other
Followed in his footsteps, inbound check.
Winners out, make it, take it, where`s the respect.
Quitters never win, winners never quit.
Back then I thought it was all a bunch of bullshit.
But as you get older, you start believing in it.
Its funny how it all changes so quick.

Inside the paint, In the key.
Beyond the arc, outside for the three.
Fast break, easy lay-up.
Finger roll, pump fake, and hook shots.
Pick and roll, give and go.
Up high, down low.
Call it off the glass.
Behind the back, no look pass.

Follow through, with a high goose-neck.
Whipping off the sweat like Jeff Hornacek.
Nowadays I need a sec, huff and puff just to catch my breath.
Face the basket, Triple threat, stance.
Wearing plastic goggles, like Horace Grant.
Not in my house, Dikembe Mutombo
A capital T, scared on the arm, of Timmy Croteau.
Call me Scottie Pippen or Chris Mullen.
White man can’t jump, Woody Harrelson
Never could touch rim,
Could only touch the nylon mesh.
But I’ll do anything to win.
Even if I have to sit on the bench
Block, rebound and steal on the defense
Tear drop, floater, over top of the giants.
Drive on the baseline, slither like a snake.
Five foot nine, with a shake and bake
Can`t catch the ball ,with your butter fingers.
Can`t make your foul shots, under pressure.
Fade away jumper, dish off the rock
Sport the old school shorts, with the knee high socks

Inside the paint, In the key.
Beyond the arc, outside for the three.
Fast break, easy lay-up.
Finger roll, pump fake, and hook shots.
Pick and roll, give and go.
Up high, down low.
Call it off the glass.
Behind the back, no look pass
Track Name: No Negativity
I’m waking up early, in the, morning.
Feels like the whole city, is sleeping.
Eyes half closed, trying to hit snooze.
What do you know, I got the Monday blues.
Slowly slide my feet, in these cold slippers.
Bathrobe and PJs, a coffee full of cream and sugar.
Its days like these, you crawl out of bed.
Its days like these, that you wish instead.
That you wouldn't hear the alarm buzzing in your head, and it was the weekend,
And you could close your eyes, and dream all over again.
Wishing you had a couple of seconds, a few more hours.
Before you leave the warm sheets, that you desire.
But now you sleepwalking through out your morning routine.
Eating breakfast, and talking with the coffee machine.
Jump in the shower, no hot water.
Tell yourself over and over
It's only gonna get better !!!!!

You get back from work, you're so damn tired.
You're dying of thirst and starving of hunger.
You got nothing for supper, you got nothing to eat.
Don’t want to leave the house again, you just got off of your feet.
Trying to be creative, with what's left in the cupboards and fridge.
A homemade recipe, can leave you often disappointed.
And full of regrets, with a rumble in your gut.
Yuck, if you think that i'm gonna eat that, you must be nuts.
I rather be left empty, on my appetite.
Then left empty sitting, on the toilet all night.
I knew these ingredients didn't really mix well.
I knew that wasn't the right color, yeah I kind of gave it a smell.
Oh hell, its a stomach full of caffeine, to survive a little longer.
If only I had a bit of money to order, what a bummer.
Take a deep breath, tell myself over and over
It's only gonna get better !!!!!

No negativity,
No negativity,
No negativity,
Keep that shit, away from me. I said...

No negativity,
No negativity,
No negativity,
Keep that shit, away from me.

It’s just part of my philosophy, part of my personality.
Don’t want no attitude from no douche-bag, in the city.
All these negative people, you don’t need.
Giving you dirty looks when you meet, them on the street.
Everyone's complaining and whining about something.
Everybody's got an opinion and a couple of problems.
I know times are hard, but that's what everyone says.
I know money is tight, bills are high, and hip hop's dead.
But even when shit hits the fan.You got to understand.
You got to stay chill, and relax buddy,
Stay cool, keep calm, and count to 3.
Tell yourself over and over
It's only gonna get better !!!!!
Track Name: Words By The Million
The words, for a lost generation
The words, for selling the illusion
The words, for a hopeless revolution
Words, yeah words, by the million
The words, to maintain the addiction.
The words, to force feed the population.
The words, for a cheap revelation.
Words, yeah words, by the million

I got all these words, scrambled, inside of my head.
Some nights I lay there, wide awake, thinking in my bed.
Instead of falling asleep, I keep on dreaming
Trying to figure out, the so-called meaning.
Trying find the reason, trying to find a balance.
Maybe making music, is my only purpose.
Scribbling down all these words, every single second of the day.
I know its absurd, but that's the only way.
That I feel right, that I feel alive.
That's why I write, until the pen goes dry.
I don’t know why, there’s just something inside.
I’m in a daze right now, i’ll get back to you in five.
Eyes stare out into the blue, lost in my oblivion.
Hands transcribes, what the brain has been digesting
The heart bleeds the ink, the art of expression.
Its Remission, with words by the million.

The words, for a lost generation
The words, for selling the illusion
The words, for a hopeless revolution
Words, yeah words, by the million
The words, to maintain the addiction.
The words, to force feed the population.
The words, for a cheap revelation.
Words, yeah words, by the million

I got a pocket full lint, I got a mouth full of words.
Scream at the top of my lungs, with a voice begging to be heard.
But only found deaf ears, in one and out the other.
Distracted over the years, captivated by what’s popular.
These words describe everything that I see.
My life is buried, in these books of poetry.
Pages and pages, chapters and chapters.
The ink flows, thicker than ever.
All that I have are these words, these dumb scribbling.
Its absurd, but these poems, are actually dripping with meaning.
Living in my songs, the art is breathing, the heart is pumping along.
Realize that its holding on, so strong.
Can’t let go, can’t stop, it keeps going.
Let it flow, just got, to keep writing.
Work in progress, the art of expression
It’s Remission, with words by the million.

The words, for a lost generation
The words, for selling the illusion
The words, for a hopeless revolution
Words, yeah words, by the million
The words, to maintain the addiction.
The words, to force feed the population.
The words, for a cheap revelation.
Words, yeah words, by the million
Track Name: Sunset
In the west, the sun will always set.
One last breath, is left.
Like a dying cigarette, lets never forget.
The sunset, the sunset

Before it is put to rest, it will bid us farewell.
Soon out of focus, slid passed the stairwell.
Take a dive, below the horizon.
Eyes, capture the atmospheric refraction.
Twilight, see it all unfold.
The night sky, splattered with flakes of gold.
The blue hour, is upon us.
The dawn is devoured by the dusk.
Finally the darkness will make his appearance felt.
A black cloak draped over the city and everything else.
The street lights start buzzing, a new moon is rising.
Another evening on the island, Montreal is breathing, never sleeping. the sun is setting

Sunset, on the Decarie...
Sunset, on you and me...
Sunset, and that's all I see...
Sunset

In the west, the sun will always set.
One last breath, is left.
Like a dying cigarette, lets never forget.
The sunset, the sunset
Track Name: The Art Of Imitating Life
It’s the art ... of imitating life.
It’s the life ... of imitating art.
It’s the art ... of imitating life.
It’s the life ... of imitating art.

Infinite ocean, of vast proportions.
Drips notions, of my last reflection.
A bottomless pit, an inkwell.
With a feather to dip, and a story to tell.
As the tip sits on paper, bleeds through and swells.
A thousand words, hit like a picture, between inhales...
And, between exhales.
I caught my breath, but I fell.
Like a coin to flip, with a wish upon it.
We all, plummet, and fall, from the summit.
Slip down Mont Royal, to the Monkland strip.
Where the sunsets, on Decarie traffic.
Silent panic, quiet riot, riding public transit.
City static, bad habits, giving head trips.
Music is my life, my life, is my music (x3).
Jazz, flows, in the veins of the artist.

It’s the art ... of imitating life.
It’s the life ... of imitating art.
It’s the art ... of imitating life.
It’s the life ... of imitating art.

Life can be, so cinematic
Just like a movie seen through the eyes of a poet.
On film the reel spins, and the image is lite.
The soundtrack mimics, the projection of the flick.
Violinist plays, the tragic music.
As a thousand frames, flash by in a minute.
The heart, beat, skips.
To the hi-hats, snares and kicks.
Spoken lips, sing, in a crowded closet.
Ink drips forever, just like a faucet.
My existence, summed up, in pages of lyrics.
A sentence, blurred, the lines that define it.
Rhythm and poetry, create a masterpiece, with this artistry.
But clearly, all of my portraits and stories,
Are becoming more like me.
Music is my life, my life is my music (x3).
Jazz, flows in the veins of the artist.

It’s the art ... of imitating life.
It’s the life ... of imitating art.
It’s the art ... of imitating life.
It’s the life ... of imitating art.
It’s the art ... of imitating life.
It’s the life ... of imitating art.
It’s the art ... of imitating life.
It’s the life ... of imitating art.
Track Name: Here We Go
Dirty hotels, tired feet and a heavy suitcase.
A notebook, a pen, and this empty toothpaste.
Foot race through the maze, polish these brown boots.
Cherish my underground roots, that are bound to my youth.
Old hat, black shoes, and black shades.
Elastic band, a silver watch that’s always late.
Time fades, It all withers away, slowly turns grey.
A million words to say, but could only utter OK.
Ashtray lungs, and coffee breathe.
Bleeding gums, and a Danny chest.
Blue eyes, blue ink, blue skies filled with chem-trails.
Biting lips, touching face, chewing my nails.
Failed attempts to grasp for control.
Hands shake, making it impossible to hold.
Can’t stop it, even when it unravels slow.
So, I guess it’s time for me to go.

Here we go, here we go.
Here we go, here we go again...
Here we go, here we go.
Here we go, here we go again...
Here we go, here we go.
Here we go my friend, here we go again...
Here we go, here we go.
Here we go, here we go again...


Work and labor, for 40 hours.
Low pressure and cold shoulders.
All you hear is white noise, and static.
All you see are the blurred lights, in the traffic.
Optimistic perspective, behind dark shades.
Nostalgic amnesia, short-term memory fades.
These old boots, carry these clumsy feet on the ground.
Dragged my tired heels, all over this shitty town.
Down busy streets and empty alleyways.
Through the cloudiest days, and brightest of sun-rays.
Gravel roads, and train tracks of the country.
Travel through the cold, and snow storms of the city.
Whirlwinds and rain, can’t contain, the emotions in my veins.
Can’t maintain, the passion and the pain. I need to change
So I pack my bags and hit the road.
Goodbye, it’s time for me to go.

Here we go, here we go.
Here we go, here we go again...
Here we go, here we go.
Here we go, here we go again...
Here we go, here we go.
Here we go my friend, here we go again...
Here we go, here we go.
Here we go, here we go again...
Track Name: The Story Of ( il était une fois)
The story of you, the story of me.
This story is all true, No, is all make believe.
Its the story of... the story of...

Excuse me, can I please have your attention, she mentioned.
She has the impression, she's living in an aquarium.
Stuck in a glass-box, observed by society.
Created the prison, locked the door and swallowed the key.
Now the city looks on, they judge and criticize her every step.
Laugh at her mistakes, tears fall, eyes wept.
Never met, such a beautiful creature.
Who was a kept a prisoner, by the pictures in the mirror.
The reflection she see`s, doesn't correspond correctly.
To what it should be, in reality.
Lines of symmetry, outlines her beauty
But she keeps writing the story of nobody
This story is about them, or maybe its about her.
It was written from the pen, of an anonymous author.
The lines are blurred with every single chapter.
Every single word,every sheet of paper, bleeding into each other.
Until they all lose meaning, and become just another song.
Just another melody, hummed out wrong.
A bunch of old dusty mix-tapes, and books of poetry.
Tell me, where did we go wrong, writing our story.

How many times must you make the same mistakes?
Before you finally get it right, it’s just the story of your life.
Every night you lay awake, between the four walls.
With all of your thoughts, that flash by in your poor skull.
Like the light-bulbs, that flicker.
In the hallways of the minds theater
Capture the scene, on a silver screen.
A thousand voices together, scream.
Louder than any human being, louder than any machine
Begging forever, just to be redeemed.
For the misguided steps, in the wrong direction.
She wept, for a resurrection...
Waiting for a revolution to come, but there was none.
So many problems to solve, she comes undone.
Looking up from the bottom, the surface seems so far.
Hard to Imagine, she’ll ever reach those stars.
Behind prison bars, Held back, by a glass ceiling.
Defining who we are, losing all, meaning.
Her life in chapters, writing her story.
Tells herself that one day she will break away free.
But she’s too busy (writing).

The story of him, the story of her.
This is how it begins and ends in forever after.
Its the story of... the story of...

In the pit of her stomach lies, a thousand butterflies.
That take to the sky, right in front her eyes.
She never realized, she was her own demise.
Tries to not act surprise, when she dies inside.
And when she cries, her tear ducts erupt.
They can't be shut, until her the sun rises up.
And when the moon falls below, in the shadows of tomorrow.
That’s where crawls all of the sorrow, she only knows to follow.
Deep, in the unknown, chases the wildest dream.
Seeps, into the bone, taste it in the blood stream.
A feign, for the life, that she lives, so strange.
Scream, the advice, it gives, no change.
Track Name: Clairevoyance
Close your eyes, open your mind.
Clairvoyance !

Knock on the door, with that old familiar sound.
Shadows on the floor, a woman in a gown.
Come on in, and sit down, I was expecting you.
Just turn left, and wait for me in the room.
As soon as I entered, the candles flicker, I got a shiver.
A red glow scattered, and shattered a mirror.
Panic takes over, keep looking over my shoulder.
I don’t feel right, try to inhale a little deeper.
I remember seeing a human skull covered in wax.
A shelf full of books and brain sawed in half.
Jars of hemoglobin, on a silver platter,
Stars crush to dust, and left in a dark corner
Golden hornets frozen on a coaster.
Centipedes, crawling on a typewriter.
That's when I heard her whisper.
Are you ready to begin, mister.

Close your eyes, open your mind.
Clairvoyance !

A glass table, cards are placed upright.
These represent, the story of your life.
No turning back now, alright, here we go
I've already seen all that I needed to know.
She took my hands, to look at my palms.
Just try to relax, try to remain calm.
Close your eyes and breath in.
Gazing at the life lines, mapped out on the skin.
I’ll begin with the past and make my to your future.
Please don’t interrupt, save your questions for later.
Wait a minute something is wrong, she says that my life, is composed like a song.
The notes are played like the cards being drawn.
Each melody, corresponds to a different memory.
Visions are like violins, in a symphony.
Every piece of music, sums up your existence.
Every sentence, defines the artists. Clairvoyance.
Track Name: Empty Bottles ( the only thing that matters)
Its crazy, it boggles the mind.
We’re all lost at sea, like these bottles of wine.
Filled with poetry, they float on the water.
I’ll be writing these poems, forever.

I stand here and observe, the world below my feet.
Empty street, city sleeps, so peacefully.
Wrapped in sheets, basking in the neon light
Broken bottles break, the silence of the night.
And I’m holding her tight, I place my arm under her pillow.
When the morning arrives, the dreams won’t let her go.
Tomorrow contains a million possibilities to change your life.
But you're too busy with your vice, to finally get it right.
Prefer to live wrong, suffer and move on.
Just another vagabond, singing the same sad songs.
Musical notes, sociological quotes.
Beautiful how the smoke, spirals and floats.

And I’m a spitting image of my father, brush everything off my shoulders.
Sit here and ponder the pages of my chapters.
The story of my life is what I’m trying to write.
Everything goes so wrong, before it finally goes right.

Chilling in the kitchen where the clothes is drying.
And I’m spilling the coffee, just like the tears that you're crying.
I've been trying so hard for the past few years to figure it all out.
The more you think about anything, the more you fall in doubt.
Imposed your ideology on me.
Faulty theories define our society.
Control what I think, describe what I see.
Free your mind, from this reality. Yeah...
Solidarity, human synergy.
Back alley poetry, the bottles are finally empty.
End of the party, still sleeping next to nobody.
Chemically altered the body, from the drugs taken daily.

Its crazy, it boggles the mind.
We’re all lost at sea, like these bottles of wine.
Filled with poetry, they float on the water.
I’ll be writing these poems, forever. (Art is the only thing that matters)
Track Name: Generation Gap
The dawn cracks and yawns, and becomes broken.
With no words spoken, turning the sky, a shade of golden.
So where do I go from here, I ask myself with a question mark.
The answer is clearer with the years, but still remains in the dark.
Spark the addiction, the mind goes blank.
Short attention, affecting, the memory banks.
Data-entry error, distorted mental pictures.
Creating doubt, in everything that I remember.
When we grow, we don’t necessarily get older.
What we know, will not always make us smarter.
December negatives, the breath escapes from my lips.
Frozen fingertips, grip, all the bad habits, that seem to slip.
But the bliss and torture, are interconnected.
And we are bitter and shallow, and often jaded.
Shaded, inside the lines and boundaries.
Faded with time, along with all the memories.
A fallacy, hell is the truth seen too late.
The discovery of the social issues the we create.
Manipulate the masses, with lies you stipulate.
Perpetuate the lower-classes, with the disguise you delegate.

The efforts are made, but the goals are never reached.
A new generation fails, to learn what we teach .

Communication system, propels the population.
Social interaction full of human emotion.
A single observation to determine, the facial expression.
That manifests the deception.
The depression, the passion, desire to conquer.
Entire empires, with tired hands that cease to perspire.
Fire that keeps growing inside of me, inside of her.
Together forever, words whispered by so many lovers.
As the seconds were drowning and the hours were devoured.
The handsome and the beautiful, became the same monster.
A stain on the mirror, sometimes the pain lingers.
We carry our baggage, long after into the future.
Until the next chapter, until the next stop.
We’ll pick up exactly where we left off.
The luggage drops on another floor.
The generation gap, grows more and more.

The efforts are made, but the goals are never reached.
A new generation fails, to learn what we teach.

Generation Gap...
We keep falling back...
Generation Gap...
We keep slipping through the cracks...
Generation Gap...
Caught in this progress trap.
Generation Gap...
Fading to black ...

What's your definition, of success.
A life wasted searching, for happiness.
Saving every single dollar and cent.
Invest in material goods, until it’s all spent.
Bottle up the oxygen, clean air for sale.
Funnel the poison, light it up and inhale.
We fail to break the cycle, there’s no time for change.
Stuck in this box, locked in shackles and chains.
Follow blindly these footsteps, without ever thinking.
We forget, that they will lead us back to the beginning.
Back to the start, going around in circles.
Like the blood pushed by the heart, through the ventricles.
The pain just circulates in the veins, swim in the arteries.
Generation's brainwashed, by the same fallacy.
Track Name: Your Face (is like a blank canvas)
Your face, is like a blank canvas.
Your body, is like a mural on the wall.
Eyes gaze, into the iris.
Of the most, beautiful, of them all...

Your face is like a blank canvas, waiting to be painted on.
With a spectrum of colors, splattered along.
Brush strokes, around her cheekbones, her hair grew long.
She always drifts, back to sleep, with the new dawn.
Hand, drawn, portraits....
Of the woman, who has eyes, like the sunset.
Jet black iris, sun kissed lips, coffee cream hair.
I still reminisce, of her, hazy dream stare.

Paint on your skin, and shed your mask, and make-up.
Faint dim light reflects, on your face, when you wake-up.
A stained coffee cup, cigarettes for breakfast.
A full ashtray, and an empty stomach.
She knows, all the thoughts, in your head that linger.
She heard, all the words, you're about to whisper.
She sees your dreams, swallows your desires.
Breaths in the shadows, that crawl inside of her.

She says, “I crave the weight of your body, pressed up against mine”.
Complains, what's played on the radio, poisons her mind.
Wants to paint a different picture, another scenery.
Change the frame, change the name and alter the reality. Because.
For a masterpiece, there’s no rest, there’s no sleep.
The paint drips down and leaks, all the way to her feet.
Knee deep, in all the beauty that she keeps.
I swear I hear you speak, and I can feel your heartbeat (And I see).

Your face, is like a blank canvas.
Your body, is like a mural on the wall.
Eyes gaze, into the iris.
Of the most, beautiful, of them all...