Personal Journalist

(spoken)<br>Sage Francis...Personal Journalist, 1968 to 2001<br><br>(Verse 1)<br>He left with deep breaths in each chest that needs less innovating Cause<br>there still debating over what rhyme skill is<br>Sick of waiting for time killers to get over there murder raps<br>And then he sold his own shirt off his back for cheap exposure<br>Seek for closure but stayed open minded<br>Always seemed to keep composure, peeking over both his eyelids<br>Speaking vulgar in misleading cultures of ultra violence<br>Teaching others how to be more loving with brotherly guidance<br>A bleeding soldier knows the science<br>He does the math quick and writes without having to think twice<br>Without asking for advice, letting the scalps peel<br>Having brains picked by head lice before the scabs heal<br>His death mask conceals his face paint<br>It feels like a safe place, but it ain`t<br>Feels like its safety seals faith, but it don`t<br>He`s not a real saint, just another one of those religious political jokes<br>And that`s not even half of the nutshell<br>Cats are compelled to crack open and extract his blood cells<br>From, when he comes back from hell again<br>He`ll have a few bones to pick with a fractured skeleton<br><br>(over scratching)<br>Sage Francis...anti-socialite...secret admirer<br>Student loaner...continental drifter...professional day lifter<br>Spin doctor...self-referentialist...personal journalist<br><br>(bridge)<br>Word, its the worthless wordsmiths<br>We`re conversing with impersonal twists<br>Heard the concern with making the Earth ship<br>These kid games are silly<br>When all art is signed anonymous<br>He`ll turn that big bang theory into a small pop hypothesis<br><br>(spoken)<br>Sage Francis...death merchant...1968 to 2001<br>Devoted son, father to none<br><br>(Verse 2)<br>Husband to something soulless<br>He didn`t spend his life on what we love<br>The hardest workers in showbiz need no diamond studded glove<br>His time is up! He`s still the type of boy who makes a comeback<br>Kill the white noise til the sun`s black<br>Moonwalk around New York City and get murdered<br>By flocks of sheep who square-dance circles inside a box of beats<br>The California Dream sequences end quick<br>Got to find middle ground in little towns<br>That`s the Midwest tradista, for something<br>Fell for every trick in the book<br>So we stop believing, in the long-forgotten Garden of Eden<br>Get off the cross! Of course we need the wood to burn in Godless heaving<br>Catch him red handed, only if his hands are bleeding<br><br>(over scratching)<br>Sage Francis...Non-profit...artificially intelligent<br>...of our guardian angel does in life...<br>1968 to 2001...it`s been a pleasure, it`s been a pleasure<br><br>Get out my weatherface with all that sunshine<br> (Get out my weatherface with all that sunshine)<br>Get out my weatherface with all that sunshine<br>Get out my weatherface...