Cyprus Skill
2011
There lies a contract on my desktop,
my proof of life after death.
A swollen knee, a dusty bedhop,
I love my angelic breath.
Daily bread or a sudden soup,
theres no time for howls or cries.
I stung my head for this consonant group,
into the sphere where the secret lies.
The Oscar goes to the Celloplayer,
that grabbed me from the tide of nothing.
Tell me once more, Soothsayer,
my fate of fantasies meaning something.
A Cyprus coin, Greek words, a message,
demand my loyalty to the constitution.
Cyclic joy, raven flies with birds of passage,
into the supersonic Monday revolution.
Shaman, tiger, vibe your bones
Ill observe, your tribe wont expire
Wild dances, fiery looks on icy cones
Id love to share with you my mental fire.
