The Year of the Wrist-Chip

I've been pickin' at positions like a ligament is missin'
I'm the flyest
20,000 flying pigs inside his eyelids
With peppercorn irises and wings resembling Icarus
Assembled to please every one the mistresses of Sisyphus

My mind's a trebuchet, hits harder than a hurricane
Portable atlatl addles lames by any other name
What's left to lose, what more to gain? It's not a game you win, weather
Or not you aim to please the most that you can do is better in the end

Scribbled sigs along a marquee, sharpie marker superstar
Supermarket rhymes delivered colder than your average alpine climb, bars the hardest
At the bottom of the climate
So many brights led to darker places, told that they've been blinded

I idle tribal on an island full of of lies and dynamite explosives
Forefathers now oudated and corrosive
It's a war on becoming becoming undone as the cultures bash
Hash-slinging bastards stabbing backs while all the vultures clash

Multch reacts, poultry retracts
The sultry under every track rises to attack
But it's a marathon on a treadmill with a mountain in the back
On the behalf of those who wanted to bring the fountain of youth back

Signs of a veteran
Letterist post-national
So pretentious that it's fuckin post-rational
Quasi-modern bent perspective on a bent perceptive-type axis
Turned it all into art to back this

Purple hearts and dizzied stars that fall under time and space
Reminds you that the daily grind's a waste
Unless you'd rather live and die for community, for me depends who's askin'
Puppet man or pen-dragon, Uncle Sam or Vatican abbots?

Abra's are hard to catch. impossible to explain
Unless you've got the imagination necessary to retrain your brain
The second that we learn to, thought,it's over, exoskeleton or crisp lip
Prep your skin for the year of the wrist chip