DESCRIPTION:
"Cotton Pinks"
Malcolm Shepard
Produced by Hi-Def
.2013.

https://soundcloud.com/malcolmmakaveli
https://soundcloud.com/hidefsrumentals

Lyrics :

Pocket full of nightmares, fist full of dreams,
Demons that I'm facin hidin out underneath,
Of the low brim, on this fitty cap, clean,
As the melodies, Hi-Def on the beat,
Ride, for the dawgs in that small town,
Higher than F16 when I, dream,
Of that life that we have yet to live,
But we still livin broke in this broken machine,
And I'm, hidin out, Honing my scheme,
Dope and a piece, see we smokin the trees,
And we joke on the low bout the hope we perceive,
When we know that we just gone blow then repeat, ah,
And that crow do deceive,
Cuz the raven say it ain't Lenore that he sees,
See Poe the poet didn't know he was free,
So it spoke and quoth "Nevermore" and he freaked,
....
See the ocean is key,
You could capsize in lies and die livin,
Defy the live style, lose sight of life's mission and,
Write the right rhymes but at night despise scriptin it,
Fight the right battles and still choke in your sleep,
... When your focus is weak,
That blurred out vision leaves you prone to defeat,
Then you cope with the lean, out cold on the streets,
And before you know it you're alone at sea, I,
Just hope it ain't me,
When December come and leave me frozen in need,
Of some clothes with a sign that says "Yo, just please,
Help me out cuz i'm down, don't give up on, me."
Cuz I know I would see,
This world is as broken as broken could be,
These folks with their homes and their loathing for fiends,
Have no hope or belief that a soul could redeem,
But I still hope for the peace,
In this world full of clones that just quote a regime,
And I know it's extreme, and my soul isn't clean,
But below my feet is an world with disease,

But we float on slow,
And lay awake at night,
Cuz we don't really know,
If we're really alright,

Flippin and switchin perspective, hoping my head Is right,
Gifted with vision left him alone in his head at night,
Sick with this symptom of feelin schitzo a bit of devil,
Get in him and you already know that he in a padded white,
Room, consume him soon, doomed to confuse confusion with losing his shattered mind,
Clueless he had it right, And soon he'll be tattered by,
The system thats quick to decide that he was out of line,

Perfection is not in question,
But the state of your own perception,
The way the dead can rise,
In essence thats all I'll reference,
Open the door to metaphors,
As word play turns to war,
Phrases lifeless on the floor,
Cold and dead forever more,
Brought to life in the night,
As pen hits destination,
Illuminated amidst the plight,
Fighting against gradation,
A sick infatuation,
With a world unseen,
Alive in his own mind,
And survives in his dreams,
Strike a match and burn it down,
It's not as good as it seems,
Maybe you would understand,
If you'd seen what I've seen.