Some say love, it is a river,
that drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor,
that leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger,
an endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
and you it's only seed.
It's the heart, afraid of breaking,
that never, learns to dance.
It's the dream, afraid of waking,
that never, takes the chance.
It's the one, who won't be taken,
who cannot, seem to give.
And the soul, afraid of dying,
that never, learns to live.
When the night has, been too lonley,
and the road has been too long.
That you think that love is only,
for the lucky and the strong.
Just remember in the winter,
far beneath the bitter snows,
Lies the seed that with the suns love,
in the spring becomes the rose.TBH saga, mad mad drama, disembarking once again, the northern top planner.
Pancrase champion class funcrusher, the back paceker bringing back all the freshest material.
Rappers turning into harmless pop stars, still the big fish in a pond of zines.
We see it through, we don't need your seat, stinking rotten underground brand.
Overcoming the slump with zero stunts, the new century replicant loading works with passion.
The remains from 'Thumpin' have no chance for reissue, juniors aside, no one gets your instant jungles.
Our mission operates beneath the surface, a revolutionist using mics like a Beretta.
Battle quallity, propped against the countless obsessed hit-makers, second to none.
Spirit photograph the succession of epemeral speaks, like sketching the contour of airflows.
A chain letter from my pen-"Endeavour", the so-called "scene" should be able to tap into this one.
The press interviews fill up the schedule, leave definite impressions with top notch metaphors
Suck in all self-conceit, running through, the drum'n'voice TRANS SP EXPRESS.
Let the fair wind blow, let the audience wait, a dirt way wrapped in dust.
The Rap game is no joke, let nobody surpass us, even the folded arms' indifferent ears could not
shun this.
Let the fair wind blow, let the audience wait, a hard way wrapped in thick smock.
Let the disc spin indefinitely, border control can't even stop these radio waves.
Rivals and clients, buyers, dealers, disseminators, gamblers, upstarts and the fortunete, diamonds,
Street teams and women on the street, think of us as your old friends and listen.
Once you start, there's no stopping until you lose, a tournament, the fuse is sparked.
Steer clear from yes-men and apathy, let the stone roll towards the break of dawn.
Sneering at the mimics-on-parade, winnings all awards that start with "the illest".
The light is green, straight on through industry inte