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Sounds Of Swami
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Glassroots
You feed the grass
It grows so long and cuts like glass
I can't believe the sting of these derelict hives
Inorganic and weeded, left barely alive
You await your instruction but for now here is mine
You're wearing the heart but you won't cross the line
Here's your cue
A windless monsoon
Clones in disguise, seen through open eyes
Are displays of emotion articulating no real feeling
Over the counter culture replaces
Real roots are exchanged for converse trainers
Rockstar poses and straight edge feigners
Top man, top dog, top trumps
(con...)
Of well placed fasion
(...verse...)
Of mindless passion
(...this!)
Won't matter when you jump ship
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The dead famous and the dead nameless
You pray, you sin, whilst spitting at the wind
This progress report states that you're full of shit
I decline, I won't chow down at your table
Well trained eyes, can't rock the boat if it's this stable
You are not Guy Fawkes and you've got no plot
You're not Robin Hood, when will it drop?
You can't move from that spot
I lick these wounds and groom these paws
As I see Che spread around the shops
These money spiders spin their webs
And bottle idol sweat
They keep pushing further on
I question myself too but I say nothing burns like the truth:
You're drowning grass roots
You burn the grass
You seive the ground
And dance in the ash
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