"The story has it they were brood from the wyrm of widows, shipwrecked, crushing the drift out shore. Legends say they dwelled beneath the crumbling stone tower of the black church aloft among foot Cemetery Hill. Little was written of what they were, but how they looked what said to be hideous."

I was made by lies, catering lines for cult signings
A child born eyeless forged from limestone and iron
During birth my mother swum in hooded crying
The rage of 33 sisters adrift that murdered 33 husbands in passionate violence
Washed ashore on a wind swept island
Fertilized with me inside egg
Women coupled with demons and gave birth to a race of giants
Angels raping human for hybrids
I am the painful silence of buried rage behind wrist gashes and eye squints
Exorcising those who follow
Pituitary deformity, grip columns with mastodon hold
I tower over the town folk like WADO
Pit roast pig head or goat
Pot roast, log rolled
Animated I still Walkman
Headset metal, stoner like Otto
Journalism Gonzo, dusty as a Sandlot coach
Let's eat standing and not toast
In the studio, lock loads
Spitting with the pop screen over cocked toast
When that crazy diamond shine, I'm in the sky with Lucy
My pocket's books
I sit with this drip and lick Holland Kush
Spit lava soot
This American terrorism, you a synagogue with books
Who you be around, chain popping kids who lift pocketbooks
We robbing hoods
Punchline dip, block and hook
Grip Glocks, split his wig til his head look like a flipped octopus
I enter rooms, it's Armageddon doom and bitter chills
I recorded Random Violence homeless, roaming and did dirt still
Didn't flip birds, just a spitter, I writ verse ill
All of my work vicious like Pittsburgh Phil
Bounded bodies of garbage rappers, littered fills
A trip sitter, watching a cistern spill
Deep passion burning like man wicker build
Eat acid sheet size of a dinner bill