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• Artiste: Sole and The Skyrider Band
• Titre: Nothing Is Free
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I'm a busted pill, undiagnosed, resting on a rusty nail Holes in my clothes, holes in my voice Used to launch eulogies from the summit, but I always spoke from the gut Crushed glass in my stomach made it hard to kneel Been to Hell, tried to drag companions but for comfort they fell I'm a face on mars, a ripple on a stream, a case of SARS A case of fat tire in the fridge Always hoped the universe would be kinder to me But I'm American, the cosmos don't like me Put me in a box, told me to dance the same, yet different and not upset the balance So I choose survival, it's a struggle I'll never cross the Atlantic with an ounce of petrol And you still trying to build a rock with ethanol? The worlds heating up, you gonna save us with alcohol? You can't feel new, nothing is free You can't clean every toilet in the city You can't be thirty and still making hiphop You can't kill god with a slingshot It's too much, one mouth to feed, one life to live, one planet to milk dry Spill your guts, but don't slip up Nobody wants to bare your crosses or share your losses So running the gauntlet ain't no picnic Want a song about a "protest"? A song about a slow dance with death? A cold hand rocks you to be more productive Wish you'd listened but in steel no one hears your scream, Cerberus nipping your heels When you're slipping, ain't nobody lifting your chin 2 miles towards space with a bloody nose No tones as atonement, nor maladies and melodies, a calculating killing machine It's kicking out all of your teeth before a blind man can say peace Nonsense is always abundance, in a mock trial, in a fake age of enlightenment Don't fold your cards, the cable's about to fold so hold the line It was built to wear you thin, the mind, is a broken box and it can't hold you steady In the words of a pharaoh, "Why must I exist? With pale blue lips." Stranded, ain't no wings left to clip Conspicuous when you're buried in rust, and the corners still jeering at us Left hook, right hook, life is a tongue in a bike spoke Gotta bunch through or I might choke Never gonna be understood by the white coats On the mic, I'm like Santa, got bombs on a tightrope They got us figured out down to an isotope, your world is caving in on a microscope Late at night in fright, in day paid to die No way to live, no way to die No bombs to calm the storm Winter is permanent, summer is a dream long gone Plant a fence, watch it pass where the trees are Till the sky is ugly as we are