El-P Follow

dear sirs
if the pavement comes alive
I’ll flap a shab a toothy smile
comprised of traffic cones and manholes become eyes
and birds burst into flames while singing satan’s praises
and fold into the sky and rain down ashy danger
if every office empties and all slaves walk in dazes to a pool of liquid money where they bathe blissfly naked
and drugs no longer taught me and flews around my conscience
and every woman-beating rapist is securely in their coffin
every open hydrant in a Brooklyn-time summer moment is opened by cops and folds out into an ocean
rent is paid by bread literally and parking isn’t paid for
food stamps can be planted and childhoods can’t be damaged
fire could power spaceships and safely shift the creators
with dynamite and gunpowder to the graves of all his faces
slurping nerve of bureaucrat life in bean-counting slave-owners is twisted in on itself ‘til they shave off their own faces
the coke and crack in the nation is collected in a top hat and force fed to the children of every CIA agent
and the dusthead’s got an angel and an acre’s worth of rainbow
and the projects turn to clouds and the stupid aren’t so proud
the sniveling grimaced mongrels are infected money-slobbing pestocrats ignite into a brilliant beam of light
mercy is the rule and the exception is mercy too
and the desert comes to Brooklyn and the president goes to school
time flows in reverse
death becomes my birth
me fighting in your war is still by a large margin
the least likely thing that will ever fucking happen ever