Stone Soup For The Soul

by AllOne

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Compassion Club
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Compassion Club This is among the list of next best things to sex. Thought provoking, soothing, massage to the ear. Absolutely brilliant, recommend ya'll listen. Bruces delivery is on point, his poetic skill evident and voice makes for an absolutely enchanting experience. Favorite track: The Hunger (EB & Tim Ruiz Prod. by Tony Mahoney).


This album is an eclectic compilation of B-sides and collaborations between various artists I've befriended over the years of creating! Along this creative journey I've had the pleasure of meeting some of the most inspiring, thought provoking and talented people from rappers, singers, and poets to instrumentalists, beatboxers and producers, many of whom are more than just people I create with, but dear friends.

"Stone Soup For The Soul" is a sort of conceptual a follow up project to my 2013 Thanksgiving release "We'll Make It Together" and it is a collection of songs on which I was generously invited to contribute to on these artist's projects over the last couple of years. Each collaborative invitation is a huge compliment that implies that not only is my work respected, but that the artist trusts me enough to let me into influence their personal creative vision and believe that I can enhance or decorate their project in a meaningful way. This compliment is not lost on me and as much as this collection is an opportunity to anthologize and share what I've made with others. It is a platform for me to proudly present the work of my very gifted friends to the AllOne Family and hopefully expose my listeners to some new favorite artists who I have gotten the chance to work with.

Released on 3-26-2017, this is my 29th Birthday gift to you, my listeners. Thank you for dedicating your eyes and ears, your hearts and your minds and of course, most fleetingly, your valuable time. I love you very dearly and you keep me going. The gravity of this generous donation of your commitment and dedication as an audience to my striving to create and find purpose and worth in the interpretations of my experience and this world and connect with you through it is not lost on me. I hope you find some new favorite artist among this incredibly talented bunch. Until next time...
Magnify Magnificence,
-Bruce "AllOne" Pandolfo


released March 26, 2017

Album artwork by Jenn Brand
Graphic Design by Mike Sette

Many Thanks to everyone who created the songs on this album (credited in the individual tracks) who paid me the great compliment of letting me into the world of your creative endeavors, I am very grateful for you giving me something to contribute to that can allow me to get out of my own head and explore some themes, techniques, subjects and styles I might not have without your reaching out... Kaila Mullady, Rob "Wise 1" Gonzales , EB, Mark and Eddie of Kill The Inventors, Kedrick "Dope KNife", Peter Scoma and Phil Corso of The Vigilance Committee, Blunted Sultan and the Beasley's Corner Bodega crew, Jim Davis over at Stony Brook's 90.1 WUSB FM, Sean "Prophet" Werner, LC, ESH, B.Rude, Zak G and JabrJaw, Monk, Tim Ruiz, Tony Mahoney and Brett and Phil of The Levee//The River.

My verses and segments were recorded and mixed in several locations by the following people...

"The Hunger" by Michael Korb at 6th Street Studios

"Sanctuary Tour Guide" and "Dystopiates by Paul Fakatselis

"Least Informed" by Alexa Dexa at Rawhide Records

"Montgomery" and "186" by Peter J. Scoma

"Inanimate", "Changes", "#SquadGoHard" by Franky Bones of Down The Drain Productions

"Work In Progress" and "Fresh Prince Cover" Live at Stony Brook University, 90.1 WUSB FM

"They Say" by Austin Sandick



all rights reserved



An experimental hip-hop lyricist, performance poet, singer/songwriter, author, beat-boxer. AllOne molds a brain into the shape of a heart and squeezes it onto a page to write thoughtful and sentimental lyrics laced with tight knit wordplay, rhyme patterns and poetic devices. Utilizing any genre and any musical means to make a genuine and meaningful conversation with you, the appreciated listener. ... more

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Track Name: Dystopiates (prod. by Kill The Inventors)
Dystopiates (KTI collaboration)
Stifle awareness to avoid a coup
employing use of coyly cute decoys seducing
an idle and careless hoi polloi's confused,
devoid of views, deem freedom's annoying,
soon we enjoy abuse from boys in blue
when the royal few deploy their troops
"SMH TMI teeny minds language is dulled,
Like/follow everything until passion is null,
Nil still we'll exhibit enthusiasm until adverts condone
or don't endorse it of course then its unfashionable
Wire side chats with a glow that is cast in your home
taken for granted gradually the gadgets control
warm posters storm shoulders:
social-climate uninhabitable
in a habit of bull, having a ball
handy to pull out a hazardous pill
at a happening boldly and have it until
having to bawl, haggard and young,
haggling junk hocking for bucks hawking for drugs
any substance used and abused to be imbued with a buzz
soon to stoop to stupor to substitute for elusive human love

We're diseases, fleas, a nuisance
(we will be replaced)
she needs to be relieved of humans
(we will be erased)
she will be so pleased to do it
(given our species' evil ways)
it seems we mean to beat her to it.
(will it even be a waste?)
Speed to reach a bleak conclusion
(will it even be a waste?)
See the inconvenient truth is
(we will be replaced)
we're sheep that heed the wolves' whims
(we will be erased)
we feed and seed and breed pollution
(given our species evil ways)
mean and meek indeed and stupid
(will it even be a waste?)
speed to reach a bleak conclusion
(will it even be a waste?)

Time is priceless but this time the price is timeless!
Life is tied in to writing by Michael Crichton
we're there scared how self-aware AI gets!
Uprising of Skynet's just on the horizon
we've transitioned to Transcendence
transformed into hybrids
blinded by iPads no desire to fight it!
Viruses spread tireless as we spread like viruses.
Economic crises as ISIS terrorizes
eco-threatened tide shift ice drips
sea level rises like gas prices,
religious mindsets despising science.
Stem cell research but what of Splice said?
It is less a moral issue, consider repercussions
if we're hoarding tissue for artificial reproduction…
It's a Godsend!
Our involvement devastates
we “evolve” and Overpopulate,
while we starve and perpetuate…
Tension escalates every day to protect our space as
Vonnegut's Galapagos proposed
we may benefit from a lesser brain!
So we trip, heads decay,
opiates entertain,
Seize today to “seize the day”
Brave New World Orders center stage!
Orwellian/Aldous thoughts...
This is an Asimov Anti- Babylon
locust swarm of nanobots with
TiVo / Jibo / Eagle Eyes
and Blue-tooth Fangs that gnash upon
catatonic Adam/Eves in with hacker mods
in analog Eden eating Apple products
underneath shadows cast by Atom Bombs
on cancer causing fire-Wailing-walls

We're diseases, fleas, a nuisance
(we will be replaced)
she needs to be relieved of humans
(we will be erased)
she would be so pleased to do it
(given our species' evil ways)
it seems we mean to beat her to it
(will it even be a waste?)
speed to reach a bleak conclusion
(will it even be a waste?)

See the inconvenient truth is
(we will be replaced)
we're sheep that heed the wolves' whims
(we will be erased)
we feed and seed and breed pollution
(given our species' evil ways)
mean and meek indeed and stupid
(will it even be a waste?)
speed to reach a bleak conclusion
(will it even be a waste?)

We celebrate the calm before the storm,
hurdle headstrong headlong, ignore the course
like heading to freshwater puts the cart before the horse
harmful in our hordes, we're harbingers of war
karma's getting coarse, nature's harshness is enforced,
arctics getting warm, no known noahs ark will form
darkest 'fore the dawn, if we don't see the light...
sunrise just might be a bomb that comes at morn.
To be a decent leader, keep your finger on the people's pulse
to seize control, squeeze and hold to guarantee you reap results.
These dolts argue global warming if it's freezing cold,
glacial ice is changing size and shape,
volcanic eruptions at record highs of late,
recognize the dire straits wild fires, climate changes,
we go from perfect day to hurricane,
ask Haiti, Japan, Nepal and similar sites if they feel secure and safe?
Ladies and gentleman, regrettably I spread the message,
we're potentially ended when I end this sentence,
Extra extra...that describes the time wish was ours.
This just in: the world's gonna kick us out
Patient Zero hour bio-chemical weapons
threaten to kill us now
It's only a matter of time... look at the figures…
Note the warnings global warming soon to be cinders…
Spring to action bombs fall Indian summers nuclear winter…
Fleeing fleas our species' screams don't even accrue to a whisper

We're diseases, fleas, a nuisance
(we will be replaced)
she needs to be relieved of humans
(we will be erased)
she will be so pleased to do it
(given our species' evil ways)
it seems we mean to beat her to it.
(will it even be a waste?)
Speed to reach a bleak conclusion
(will it even be a waste?)
Track Name: The Hunger (EB & Tim Ruiz Prod. by Tony Mahoney)
The Hunger verse
Conceived on a drunken eve amid aggression,
with an apoplectic deadbeat, whose specialty
is raising bottoms of bottles and clenched fists,
better than ever rising to the challenges of raising a well fed kid,
So no a husband isn't expected, is that your final question?
Just a Bonnie and Clyde, mommy and tyke,
so a lack of protection birthed us a lesson,
forever will the mother hen be overprotective,
regardless of how rotten the nest egg is getting.
Personal values redirected, self respect neglected
with sacrificing and sinning. Or is it permitted, if it's connected
with providing nutrition for your brethren?
Not a bit eligible for scholarship and momma didn't have tuition,
so she wants to give him the opportunities she'd been missing.
So, Maybe she turns to spending nights stripping,
or with red eyed women in skin tight fishnets,
in the red light district, with tense guys drifting.
Ya'll sympathizers, cringing trying to put yourselves in those positions.
The writing's on the wall where her back is and rather than
put her head between her legs to goodbye kiss her ass with,
she'll do the same contortionist act and bounce back making cash with
her back bouncin' on a mattress,
It's a role that no one takes with ease,
but when you hear your hungry babies' screech,
in every rusty clank and squeak of the motel bed frame springs,
enabling the bravery is attempting to stretch the distance
made between the cradle sleep and grave routine,
Don't you armchair arbiters dare judge her
from the comforts of the suburbs
moral dubiousness doubled when the subject's
an encumbered mother, stumbling through the blunders,
struggling to comfort the stomach grumbles
of another the one she's had the utmost love for
since the sunburst of her son's birth.
In desperation she trudged forth and
manipulated the structure for satiating The Hunger.
The tragedy and awful irony all too sickening,
is that as she tried to fondly feed her infant,
and set him up amply to escape these fallow conditions,
in utilizing the vile environment they foully lived in,
she died a midst it, the fault of the unforgiving cities' misfits,
and actually set an example for him to follow, cyclic.
Track Name: Least Informed (KNife prod. by Mammoth)
Caught up in the WEB
not "interact", but "internet"
no interest in intimacy
an intrinsic need to intervene
Online- SINformation super-highway user
On lines in formations to get in a WAY HIGH Stupor
won't look in a Face or a Book
(save for a push on a computer).
Ignorance = Bliss
(well yeah, "Truth Hurts"!)
Entertained, Enter-tainted, Enter-TAMED.
But EXIT what?
an exodus of excellence.
we've outsourced integrity
we go out obsessively
but being outgoing is heresy?
out of touch with EVERYTHING
Self-centered yet no sense of self is seen!
Celebrity is celebrated Godliness
(and "in God we trust"!)
Genuflecting generations generator.
So little empowerment
now enriched solely by valueless
soulless shock-value-clips
Buzzkill nobody is "grounded"
found within the rock-bottom-of-the-barrel
getting rocks off in glass houses
Pitching. Sniffing.
Get stoned! Get Hammered! Get Smashed!
Be proud of it! GET GET GET!
Never give out a bit....
News Flash! Special announcement!
Our pronouns have been hi-jacked...
YOUtube. MEems. Imax Ipod.
On cue, I watched my highly idle, high idols.
"Hi, I'm dull!"
Hi-fi, Wi-fi, why find anything of interest?
No moral compass is within this GPS.
Despite the E-maelstrom of TechnOpression
Our Anti-Social-Network-Ethic
Machinery beats desperately against ribs
protesting its obsolesence.
No Murmurs! our hearts groan.
to jail-break-free of these smartphones
a detention behind Barcodes.
See a "screen" is just a filter.
So what's getting left back in that "net" trapped?
Look into FACES
have a sincere organic communication
no synthetic INTERFACE could ever match.
Track Name: Work In Progress (Live with Kaila Mullady on 90.1 WUSB)
Workin' Progress
We're all a work in progress,
do you progress your work?
We're all a worth to process,
how do you process your worth?

I went from H.I. To Playwrite,
unsavory crass piercings to favoring rap writtens,
from raw stunts to AllOne
depraved with my lashed skin and burnt flaming hands in cinema
to the cadence and fast rhythms the aims of the past switching.
Johnny Knoxville: breaking my back living.
Tennessee Williams, beast with language of vast tinting
menagerie glass prisms, a slave to the craft penning
note factor: no matter the place of my ambition
my brain isn't stagnant, in a state of it's transition
with creative and grand visions.
A hurricane and wingspan kissing, (it's the butterfly effect.)
I was crazed in the beginning, but I tried to vent it,
Dependent on making up planned fiction,
with a wonder I invent, and now I'm clear headed
with ambiguous sad images as how Shutter Island ended.
And whenever I'm progressive, I accept it, it's expected.

We're all a work in progress,
do you progress your work?
We're all a worth to process,
how do you process your worth?

Ideally I'd wish I'd whisper sweet nothings in your ears,
but really I'll just speak so much you'll wish I wasn't there.
My heart isn't encased in any sort of picture frame,
it ripped the cage and slipped away (much like the Grinch's eh?)
It's got a resting ridiculous rate of 1,000 words a minute pace.
And those words tend to escape unexpectedly intense and insane
My birthday cards get lengthy and mushy quickly,
crammed cramped confessionals encouraging fulfilling living,
they say more than most parents to their kids by fifty.
It's to make up for not seeing you enough because I'm busy,
and simply to amend that I'm too broke for gift giving.
Silly and interestingly: I scrawl 'em while driving from the gift shop,
my Kodak moment's the cutting room floor of Hitchcock,
Most of my favorite clothing is thrift bought,
and more often than not: I get depressed instead of pissed off.
I'm just not the guy who's gonna yell if/when we're fighting,
it's actually unexciting, I'll talk rationally and nicely,
till you ask me to leave, brightening, since I'm not dramatically enticing,
"Where's the passion wheres the lightning?"
Honestly, I find conflict frightening,
and I'd rather tell you I was wrong
and that I hate myself in writing
than turn beet red and pretend I know the right thing.
And whenever I'm rejected, I accept it, it's expected.

We're all a work in progress,
do you progress your work?
We're all a worth to process,
how do you process your worth?

Chrono-miser afraid to waste time, as I spend it's
directly affecting my self-worth and value, taxing my connections
to fulfill personal objectives, unable to find a balance so I'm left in a deficit.
Depressing: we got all this baggage, but we ain't going anywhere,
take my leave of absence, can't move on, I see you everywhere,
So I take the pen (pin) out feelin' explosive like a grenadier,
The last several years...regrets and fears,
exes speared through the middle like an asterisk,
had you on my arm, as the tattoo is, you had to skip,
now you're only on my mind, show me there's a sign,
totally despite supporters in corner, I've been lonely in my life,
There's a pulling in my throat, every breath I take,
Heart is overworked, shackled by a heavy weight.
Pressure behind my eyes, like when a levy breaks,
Wishing there's a penny placed there almost every day,
My lips twitch itching to frown, at any given minute now,
I'll be six in the ground, roots writhing around.
Went from two peas within a pod, to ruined beans that sit and rot,
I choose to scream at mythic monstrous
dubiously existent gods, as ship or water,
lip or dock, you never know the role you're cast:
sitting bottom/swim in salt on which side of the fishing rod,
Here's a hint for ya'll, maybe there's a different option...
I feel like I sink and bob, bonded to lines that trick those caught.
Even in difficult thoughts, my ending hope's to live out long,
and give the citizens upon this coast and spinning rock
some hope to grip upon, keep em hooked, stringing along and singing songs.
And whenever I'm connective, I accept it, it's expected.
Track Name: Fresh Prince Remix (Live with Kaila Mullady on 90.1 WUSB)
AllOne verse:
My man Will Smith kills it on film strips
He moved on although I know this isn't chronological
I won't venture to say Wild Wild West was great
but Independence Day and Enemy of The State?
I have yet to praise I Am Legend...WOW
Men In Black, Seven Pounds,
Remember that? Instant classic flick!
I'm a fan of Smith, amicable renaissance man he is!
Dance the Switch, laugh at Hitch,
Brilliant in Pursuit of Happyness
Bad Boys? Hilarious with Martin Lawrence
Heard Bagger Vance was an "above par performance"
Lets not forget I, Robot from his acting jobs
wonder if Asimov would cosign it with HIS Hancock
Rarely done a bad spot, that's a few I have not seen,
But I'll leave to see Ali, as its in a lot of these people's top 3
Speaking of 3? NOPE, MIB should've stopped at the sequel,
Not into it if you're not in the new ID4,
but I'd be so pissed if I didn't express this
Please don't take it as disrespectful
I know you've got connects and acting perks
but please keep your status as Dad
to interact reserved after work.
I was "weeping" when Willow, whipped her hair back and forth.
and as for After Earth? THAT'S THE WORST
Cut the cord after birth. cut the scene.
your natural mirth and acumen
wasn't passed in your genes.
your acting-cast-a-talent-shadow doesn't seem
to be passed to your teens.
Can't eclipse each clip that's passed to your seed.
Obviously, Will Smith, that's my dude,
they say you're white-washed,
but that can't stop you.
Intellect and integrity, respect for sincerity
in your rap songs moved?
and honestly?
I'm genuinely looking forward to seeing Hancock 2.
Track Name: Changes (Prophet)
My rose colored glasses have 20/20 hindsight
I bite bullet points I find on my timeline
claustrophobic closed minds prior had wide eyes
my are floored by essences or lore's florescent highlights
evergreen flora scents sent nostalgia I pined for
climbed more, got junk piles to design forts in the forest
so many memories forged (yet genuine) I won't forget legends
skateboard sets 'til sore, sweat soaking wet
playing "hard to get" with life, flirting close to death
learning loving living, doings so with no regrets!
The only "OD" that we'd known of them was "Overdrive!"
Go karts go and ride, pool hop (coldest dives!)
roll and grind the poles of signs, coast on bikes
Oh we were so alive!
so we claim "golden age" like "those were the days!" way back when
that's since we couldn't say THAT, THEN!
I just want to say that then,
"these are days too, don't waste that, friends!"
Track Name: They Say (EB & Monk prod. by EB)
Ignore your detractors,
tend to bore and distract us
want credit for you,
friendly when the trend is supporting your craft
AFTER judgmentally editing your horrible chapters?
Suddenly art should technically sound architecturally sound?
Your constructive criticism's written in blueprints
interested in building a box and trying to stick me in it
I'm not trying to lose "creative license"
while my drive is under other's influences!
Waylay the naysayer's vain claims
I articulate aches of my listeners, thus
I hear what THEY SAY to get in touch
which what pain weighs, stuck on the tip of their tongue
I know the duct tape taste isn't among your top ten!
Held hostage, my modest two cent pay raise to ya'll who gave praise,
speak to you, see you through, I'll be your mainstay!
Placate paint stains on your pain caves' walls
All's well! With great strain I make music to relate to
transport and elate you, transform and vacate your "MAYDAY"s
shoulder the weight gain, support we break chains intact
Rap of Gibraltar I place Qualuudes impact
strike nerves as I wait days for breakthroughs
to excavate you from that "grave place"
mishaps? Mayhap wishing to etch your date stamp on the gray slab
unlock inspiration (my main plan) KEYNOTE SPEAKER
to bridge this great gap with KEYSTONE FEATURES
exorcise saying what they can't (defeat those demons)
My brain, heart and brave fam I heed those three first
brain waves? Resurface, re-surging,preferring
to hear what THEY SAY.
Track Name: #SquadGoHard (LC, Esh, B.Rude, Zak G, JabrJaw and Dope KNife)
You say “pause”, it's great.
since you say nothing when I hit PLAY
claim “boss/crip”? shake head cringe-face,
clique claims “inmate”? which gang?
Legal rap sheet? Ship shape!
Read your rap sheets, Shit's plain!
Cheesy story full of holes (it is Swiss made.)
Little fish smaller pond Soundcloud kid reigns
rich fake oaf with a mint chain,
pimp cane, oath on the King James,
states he's “the dopest in his Zip/State”
gems on his head like a SIMs game,
new zipped state...stay in a bag,
new chain is tag where his kicks ain't
blacklist ixnayed Dat Piff mix tape,
quick-change trend-blind in vain,
quick fade Twitterature hip phrase
click “copy” click “paste”
punchline dim dazed,
in grade 6 brain ingrates,
it's as if “limp and lame” is law to em,
Lord you're numb! whose laudin' em?
It isn't long and I'm asleep like laudanum,
appallingly predictable and predictably applauded,
surely once you've heard one, you've heard all of em.
Good lord I'm done.
Track Name: 186 (The Vigilance Committee)
James P Casey..."diary entry"...
After enduring that miserable sentence in Sing Sing I've had to travel across the entirety of the country. The West has auspicious allure in more than Gold. The anonymity afforded and thus the potential to build a new life also naturally has its attractions. I need to recover more than just the financial loss in the wake of my capture. Some persons of help were among the barbarians in the New York prison and I've been referred to influential individuals in San Francisco that lead me to this comfortable editing position in the Sunday Times and a place on the Board Of Supervisors. Being further than ever from Mother is painful, but not worse than her broken heart if she were to discover my imprisonment for Grand Larceny back East. San Francisco seems to operate in favor of ambitious types like myself and there is hope that my fortunes and reputation will ascend. Mother would be delighted to hear the news, now if only the Lord would guard my secrets in these trying times.
Track Name: Montgomery (The Vigilance Committee)
"Journal of James King Of William":
I've been writhing in bed for days with this wound burning with a vitriolic persistence like Casey's vengeful cowardice that put it there. It seems Dr. Cole has done everything possible and my prognosis remains grim. How apt that I would be maimed whilst working for the same publication that provoked the fatal rebuke from one exposed by its honest declarations. It is lamentably treacherous being noble in this oft indecent world. Still, I'd caution no one against it, the invaluable company kept outweighs the risks. Will the villains be brought to justice? The flattering throng gathered ceremoniously outside suggest it is likely. Their passionate undulating presence isn't solely indicative of concern for me, perhaps the people's outrage at the injustice that has been corroding our societies' prosperity is finally galvanized. If this is so, then I've not lived nor died in vain, perhaps this is my necessarily tragic opus, urgently validating my life's work.
Track Name: Love In Fear (The Levee//The River)
thumbing through photographs, he left a personal touch the keepsakes hadn't had in ages
his soiled spirit sunk into dark places, mocking him and the shovel he dug graves with
worse, he was sure he hadn't dug enough for the no-body-count he'd amassed and yet...
he tossed the nameless images with cold conviction and precision in the vindictive abandonment
oh this grave was personal, you could say "he made it his own"
only after swallowing pride could he stomach another's embrace
no longer would he present graves to those no longer present
no longer would he lock himself into the lie that he was not the key
when love meets fear, fear always wins
and a life kept secret is a forgotten death never mourned,
the secret is to let the secret out
Track Name: Inanimate (Prod. by Blunted Sultan)

no object's defined by evil,
but when we objectify people
or our object's to define unequal
a deed to deem them as inadequate

decidedly dehumanize do defile
vilely file, view their lives as inanimate,
then sadistically animating
an object we're handling
fatally damages the fragile living
shattering the animate status attached to them,
and in an instant of duress
a simple sick decision to direct,
an innocuous object viscerally
switch horrifically to that which that isn't its intent..
from innocent to a vicious instrument of death
plays its requiem role a symphonic dirge
orchestrates gory traits awfully served
cacophonous curt disconcerting concert solemnly heard,
hurt, herded and reaped, to a coffin in the dirt where you sleep,
Neutral items newly enlivened
by given brutal purpose perceived disturbing the peace
taking life, curbing the breathing,
it certainly seems there's no silence,
the violent cycle churning repeats...
grunts and moans when a person's conceived,
turning to screams when the birth is achieved,
unless death occurs in your sleep,
last words that you speak, worse they're shrieks,
the reaper whispers terms courteously
courting us working in secret
permanently leaving entrails and urns for his leavings,
end trail cremation pavement murky with weeping
the cost to cross Styx river isn't cheap,
in this world that you see.
Every carpet with a burgundy streak,
every stray sneaker observed in the street
could be the murderous scene of a terminal deed.
A landmark of a victim never to be heard or be seen.

What's that stain on the carpet?
Why is that pole bent there?
Whats with that shoe in the sump?
How did that hole get there?

[Verse 2]
When you're on the subway,
what if you are sitting on a blood stain?
Whats to say that crack in the glass
or a shoe at the bus station
isn't connected to a “someone”
ending on a “some day.”
why is there a pair of muddy pumps in the sump eh?
Why the torn cloth on the sharp fence the rust ate,
the macabre and the maudlin are all in the mundane,
all your petty values here are chump change.
Death's an equalizer, sleep designer, untamed
closed case, unchained, uncaged
There's a twist in the life of every lifeless feature
like the twist of a knife in the spine of a leader.
When life's dealer doles a wild card
fate's hand matches wits, masochist
raise the stakes with a tarot picture,
crazy 86 ya, playing devil's advocate
gambling with life there's a chance to win,
those same odds put your ass to risk,
so life's randomness hands a gale force wind
to your fragile house of Kevorkian jack's and kings
transformed into ashes quick, you're canceled
lost to that old wind like Amelia Earhart
a game of pick up 52 prayer cards,
when “hit me” is said by a nail that's set in a casket's lid,
a narrative connected, embedded to anything,
a potential death bed in the bedlam of everything
eyes X'd so quick, exodus, death's abyss
existing cattle lives, cross paths
with cross hairs that catalyze your exiting

no object's defined by evil,
but when we objectify people
or our object's to define unequal
a deed to deem them as inadequate
decidedly dehumanize do defile
vilely file, view their lives as inanimate,
then sadistically animating
an object we're handling
fatally damages the fragile living
shattering the animate status attached to them...
Track Name: Sanctuary Tour Guide (prod. by WiseOne)
Sanctuary Tour Guide
If life is spiraling...
make it golden, Fibonacci sequences,
Liberace eccentric, syllables get selected,
Ring alarm resurrection, sing the body electric,
Eclectic stitched quickened language like
Frankenstein to mainline a sanguine sign
to angered languid types they've resigned
pained, deciding this is a thankless ride,
so I'll be Hank Pym right;
devise a formula for a change in size
of your antonymic anchors, lighten
the load of anguished times
whenever a plague arises
with an Occam's Razor slice
plagiarized from plain advice
your brain would write
on your dream boat's mainsail's
Loose leaf paper lines!
If fate supplies cold shoulders and lemons? take some ice,
make a lemonade and spice your favorite entree and dine,
crush and age the vines of sour grapes to wine,
pressure made your diamonds,
in other words assess the meal you've been given with meliorism
mother of pearl! the world's your oyster,
get a taste of life, you may just find the flavor's fine!

I'm here to take you in
If life is trying to take you out
I'm here to fix you up
When life is trying to break you down
I'm here to take you in
If life is trying to take you out
I'm here to be your fix
When life is trying to break you down

Forget a "starving artist"!
has anyone any one thought for the audience?
they're malnourished, parched and spent
from an empty market's rotten trends!
This is all for them,
to calm my head before performances
don't think of them naked at all instead
my way is I weigh in my naked honest text
as long awaited oasis songs that quench!
Interested in the legend of stuff
restless 'til I'm the stuff of legend
Is that obsessive and dumb, desperate or what?
I'm friendly enough though I tend towards gruff
when others disrespect the subjects of my love
Ironically I'd probably break ten connects of those who take offense
With the perverted/crass circus act I think it takes to make new friends.
Acknowledging the folly in fact I've had to be sorry for that
so I'm recording these tracks performing, extorting them
affording atonement in hopes to pay off what's amassed!
Put the wind in your sails, Propel all of your masts,
To follow your paths leave a Mark like Vonnegut had,
dissolve horrible masks, discard commoner acts
Awaken all of you back to a state you're intact,
conscious and glad just as doctor Oliver Sacks!

I'm here to take you in
when life is trying to take you out
I'm here to fix you up
when life is trying to break you down.

I'm here to take you in
If life is trying to take you out
I'm here to be your fix
When life is trying to break you down

In a sea of doubts, no shoreline?
A safe haven sight for sore eyes,
If you're ever feeling lost I...
I'm gonna try to be your tour guide.
When you're an etch a sketch museum built precariously on a fault line,
Or a vessel with arrested potential docked in a bottle of port wine,
Pieced patiently, perfect, impressive but imprisoned by a cork tight,
And the turning of the corkscrew is forcing you lose your mind....
I'll try to be your tour guide

When the aging in the looking-hour-glass leaves you mortified,
When that worldly wretched sediment monkey wrench compresses your spine,
in the clouds but that former 9 transmogrifies to the storm kind,
And the sanctuary of the safety net parachute parasol dies
I'll try to be your tour guide!

I'm here to take you in
when life is trying to take you out
I'm here to fix you up
when life is trying to break you down.

I'm here to take you in
when life is trying to take you out
I'm here to be your fix
when life is trying to break you down.