Lyrics: Bent
Album: Boxcar Sessions
Artist: Saafir
 

I’ve been down this corridor –
Before you enter you have to bring
Back the creator of winter damn,
Too late i’m spoiled, i need the napalm
I got it, i shot it in my left sector,
Blew up the timing device on the reactor.
Time shifted i had to remold the floor
The foundation for creation – mate’s blend
The pleasure dome into another roam –
A walk stalked nightly by the ogre
That’s rarely sober. but there’s no tracin
I see the place in the flow. i’m beyond dawn,
No i’m not in the lawn under pawns –
Don’t rest, never possessed stagnate magnets.
I never pulled slits lips wit no braille skilled eyes –
Balls through eyesockets. i’m currently current
Currents of electricity; they can’t get wit me
Invisible to the retina half – way reality part limbo.
A nervous laugh while ya climbin through windows,
Never spin ho’s on merry-go-rounds,
Be the ground level for ghouls, schools of fish,
Victims on a hit list me like geronimo on a pratt –
Tackle patt tacklin patterns addin in seasonings, flavor.
No false teeth for beef, catapulting fingers to light
Switches so you can see the real, i feel the tension
My sight twitches – i’m bent.

Second scene: i’m the star in a step show
Around corners, the coroner’s office;
Where my rep grows. i’m on some sort of drug
Like the president, it’s evident that i’m noid,
A little bit of pizza – the riddle gets deeper.
I’m lookin for outs n ins, stolen isotonas,
The gloves, the bout begins three jabs on a transport
It’s a sport for me to take another life on landing,
Branding wit a prattle prod designed by god.
It’s my job to resign frauds,
The odd is against you got a degree in me,
So i know that i flow, credentials are essential –
It’s blasphemy the type of shit they be askin me.
I don’t feel the vibe, abstract art the veal
Doesn’t heal this deprived stomach from a plummet.
Swinging on a duet with the bullet.
I never pull out for suspense – i’m on a bent mission.

Jack cousteau couldn’t take it no deeper –
I’m a resident in davey jones micro-locker
Holds the phone, foamin at the mouth:
Mad dog, a taste, never had hog i’m droppin
The scrooge, makin fools hit the log – axe it.
I seen it beneath where the cowards hope
Trembled sleeper see if you can find the lost
Treasure through measures in bars – i’m bent.