Art of Darkness

[Verse 1: MC Lars] It’s just another day in the life of an artist Searching for truth in the rhymes that I harvest Art is my savior, art is my crutch Art is my breakfast, my dinner and my lunch Painting poems on these walls and I know I can’t stop Acrylics on my fingers, dripping sticky and hot because I’m so inspired getting higher every day Honestly these sonnets still have got a lot to say So bring me a pen and a pad and a beat Just one hit, one fix, and I’ll be free ‘Cause this is the land where dreams are made Where people get robbed and pushers get paid The passion and blood and the faith in my veins Made everything okay when I felt it slip away Yeah it’s been a minute since I’ve seen the sun Since my parents saw their son and this process has begun Cooking lyrics in a spoon, I stop and loop the beat There’s never time to shower, socialize or eat I pop a tab of poetry bump another line Metaphors get mixed, I sit back and recline – V5 rolling ball syringe stuck it in ‘Cause art was the curse and the cure and the friend Know that it’s true – alive when I write this The serpent is loose and I try not to fight this! [Hook] You ain’t gots to feel a low never I’m the one out choppin’ wood in cold weather The go-getters, we know better Art of Darkness, poker face bettin’ I’m the one climbing up the stairway to heaven Writing poems all alone welcome home [Verse 2: Sage Francis] Psycho sedative. Type 0 negative Sick of this monotonous cycle. Repetitive Is this reality? It’s like “No”…then it is Back alley white snow medicine For the defensive addictive personality type Showing off teeth marks to prove reality bites As if all of y’all lack the scars that match But death is the bitch and that dog ain’t barkin’ back That’s just junky speech The only time I stop talking is when a belt’s between my teeth It’s a feast for the addict, a beast of habit Sneaks to the attic and seeks the magic that speaks back Transcribe the interview When I begin to use I can’t hide my inner views If music was therapeutic I’d have been fixed long ago But this is just a song you know [Hook] [Verse 3: MC Lars] Once upon a time this kid had a dream A voice and a purpose and a vision to be seen I realized reflections of fame were but illusions Art was the curse and the cure and solution I met with clowns, snake charmers, publicists Saw my name in magazines, laughing I was loving it My muse and I used to drive and sing along Down the California Coast, in the woods writing songs Up in the mountains we tried to unplug Away from the noise and the stress and the drugs But I kept finding pills in the corner of my closet Underneath the skeletons, hid them in my pocket Like Jack Kerouac in a Big Sur Cabin Or Alan Ginsburg in Greenwich Village rappin’ The Pantheon of Poets, visionaries drinking coffee Sitting in the dark, through the window I was watching [Verse 4: Sage Francis] Like a sniper with a rifle and a life full of debt 2Pac fell off because he didn’t know the ledge Respect the Jesus Juice like a noose around the neck Mic cord wrapped around my arm during the soundcheck (one, two.) Oh, you ain’t gots to feel a low never I’m the one out choppin’ wood in cold weather The go getter, and I’m lickin’ my chapped lips I’ll keep on swingin’ til a disc in my back slips My ex called me callous (at least she called me.) Pale flesh full of scabs (bad teeth from the coffee.) Fat feet ’cause I’m portly (caffeine ’cause of a broken edge.) When they speak high of my music it goes over my head I’m travelin’ man with a gavel in hand And a twelve member jury in the back of my van We’re coming to a court room near you I can see the rehab center filled with smoke in the rearview I’m living with my big money. It’s my drinking buddy When I squander it I ponder if it ever thinks of me When my chips are down and my bottle bottoms out But I’m on the up and up so what the fuck’s the problem ’bout? [Hook] [Verse 5: MC Lars] In Western Australia, I saw the Southern Cross Chasing turtles in the sea, our love paid the cost My heart beat erratically woke up and all I saw Were panties in my sleeping bag, a note in her bra It said, “Dear Lars, we were never meant to be You meant a lot to me, sending kisses in your sleep In your sleep don’t cry – remember the magic You still own it, you will always have it I’ll send you haikus, with nothing but truth I’ll send them care of Icarus, hope they get to you.” What else could I do? I picked up the broom Swept the pieces of my past from the corners of the room While the beautiful people drink champagne and laugh I just can’t hold back, I just can’t relax Backstage in El Dorado, sitting with my fishing pole In a dressing room consumed by my gang of wishing souls