beg you listen me, don´t be kissing me ´til i´m done
unsung champion, reason, like seasoning
pepper your thoughts with spice, and entice you to a space
where i dwell with bass players and layers and loops
think what i think with my prayers. it´s nice. my world is everything i´ve become
contained in the hum between voice and drum
i´m coming from the same place i´m still running from
but even sitting in the garden one can still get stung