Behind The Stained Glass - Killah Priest

?Behind the Stained Glass?

You see the album cover

Look behind the picture

There?

s something behind the picture

The stained glass

Let?

s go beyond the spectrum of light

To a thought, to a line, to my breath on the mic

That?

s the cost of the rhyme, I start from the left then I write

Holding the pen by its abdomen

Then started imagining myself through galaxies that I haven?

t been

With my index I begin to message my pen?

s breast

Performing poetical intercourse?

til the end get wet

It climax when I rap, ejaculating ink when I think

Masturbating to its brink

Then inside my brain is the Big Bang

This is more than just a sixteen, it?

s a sick dream

Exploding hypernova, so I write it over and over

The righteous soldier with an Israelite culture

I established the tablets of madness with graphics for savage

Leaving fragments of bo?

es, deadly poems, spread havoc

?Behind The Stained Glass?

Oh look?

Behind the Stained Glass?

Behind The Stained Glass

Don?

t even search, look?

Behind the Stained Glass?

The curse will come

As I light up from the inside like an exquisite Asian paper lantern

This is lyrics invading, drawing in the greatest patterns

Started through the thermosphere, burning through the air

Down through the atmosphere, through the mesosphere

Broke through the layer, through the troposphere

Past the stratosphere, I?

m a giant magnet for ideas

And it rotate light-years, passing through the ozone

Squeeze into the crack of dawn

Then a rap is formed inside my brain, then it storms, rains long

?Til it fill up my pages with stained icons

?Til the mic warms, don?

t turn those lights on

Keep them off when I talk

Distant galaxies will rush away from you

Then you sway into a view

Like a thermonuclear flash bulb

Then you see my face splashed with blood

Now when I turn on the lights it looks like a massacre

It?

s all over the grass and my gloves

?Behind the Stained Glass?

Don?

t look?

Behind the Stained Glass?

Don?

t even search?

Behind the Stained Glass

The dark grey tunnels of my conscious is complex

It?

s conscious with grave concepts

In a black cave that echoes songs for the ghetto as I engrave my context

Thoughts begin to compress, so I have to breathe with a calm breath

It?

s like I?

m taking a long rest and it?

s beyond stress

?Cause before I pick up my pen my palm sweat

Everything in the song now connects

So come along on a conquest

My mind is outrageous, paragraphs and phrases

Super compounds, nouns, words is written inside the pages

To me the margin is just holograms

When you write like King Solomon

Everything seen through a scholar lens

Take you to the outer realms

No oxygen, just watched a film

Whether it?

s drawn in Sanskrit or even handwrit?

Or even painted on the canvas, as long as you can understand it

__ places out of tablets, books or handed in a pamphlet

Or information from encyclopaedias

Now we write graffiti?

cause we were pyramid architects

That is some mysterious art I kept

Mega irregular comparatives, superalitives, adjectives, adverbs

Bad nerves, do not disturb once the wrist swerves

It reads this word, Priest, the Da Vinci of this century

?Behind the Stained Glass?

Don?

t look?

Behind the Stained Glass?

Don?

t even search?

Behind the Stained Glass

Don?

t even look?

Behind the Stained Glass

My real attribute can only be heard when a astro shoot

My thought crawls

?Behind the Stained Glass?

Up through a narrow cone that comes out of my dome

Just like a pharaoh sitting on a throne

?Behind the Stained Glass?