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lyrics
Intricate. On a mission not to miss. All hits. Quick with the pen and swifter with the lip. Listeners get the disc, they want to see the future, and trip the science fiction. Lifters up, shields down. Weapons grade words. Cut the cable, we can float around, or we can take turns. I'm done with disposable, not a fake person. If I can't strap it on my back, put it back on the rack. Pack lite, it's a hellova flight. The smartest and brightest, the artist inside us gonna be there, too. Worlds away, twirl the blades and punch it! Before Monsanto puts that stamp on my stone, get it and gone.
Jungle!
Swallow me whole.
Break my body and free my soul.
What I am, what do I owe?
I'll be fine on my own.
Vision the formula put it into action. Breathe life into the boy. Ideas do die, short supply. Do it and try, put it on the line. Train the mind's eye to make what's inside take f*ckin' flight. Do it tonight. I fight my fight with a mic, you do whatever you like.
Vision the formula put it into quotes. Multiple divide, exponential rise, spreading like fire. The math is against me. Mind my environment. Rappin' for the get-free. Don't test me, don't believe a word that box say. We're getting out. Democracy is hypocrisy, I'm a slave to the rhythm and not the beast.
Jungle!
Swallow me whole.
Break my body and free my soul.
What I am, what do I owe?
I'll be fine on my own.
Jungle!
Swallow me whole.
Break my body and free my soul.
Dig deep, and watch it grow.
Shoes on my feet and I'm gone.
Jungle vibe,
Numbers rise,
Population
Sky high.
Where's the limit?
Where's the line?
Xenat-Ra,
On the rise.
Save a life, change your own, feed the children, bomb the throne. Pull your weight, keep it green, don't leave a trace, just change the scene. Urgency, make-believe, take my body, I don't need it. Send a message cross the line, the Monk Metz is on the rise. From the forest, back to space, wipe the fear right off your face. Blaze the trees for cash burn, to the darkness we shall return.
Jungle vibe,
Numbers rise,
Population
Sky high.
Where's the limit?
Where's the line?
Xenat-Ra,
from the forest back to space, wipe the fear right off your face, blaze the trees for cash burn, to the darkness we shall return.
credits
from Science For The Soundman,
released October 6, 2012
Monk Metz: words
Matt Calkins: saxophones, FX, clave
Mark France: guitars
Joel Hirsch: congas, dumbek
Dave Trenkel: Hammond organ, Rhodes piano, Minimoog
JD Monroe: drums
Otto Gygax: shekere
Joe Freuen: trombone
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