(No!)
It's The Buttress, the retarded artist (no!)
AKA "The White Devil" (oh, God, no!)
Sitting listening to crickets in the thicket, candyflipping
I'm a wicked, disheveled, white devil
I'm a wannabe phenomenology prodigy reveling in suffering through self-induced anxiety
With drugs to try me
My body is work, but imma pursue it
Cause I'm ruder than Buddha
Sip witches brew and get nude, giving 'tude to Judah
Ain't nobody truer, get more enlightened with each stroke of lightning'
If it's frightening, then Buttress say, "Do it!"
Do I gotta read Ephesians to these heathens?
Chapter 2 verse 8, "For by grace you have been saved, not by works, through faith"
So don't grieve your reason, believe in what The Buttress speaking
She say to make way to the diurnal Inferno
Enter circles with Virgil, Mother Nature's infertile
I burst forth from the abdomen of scorched earth
The birth of a madwoman
♪
I'm an artist starving, static charges
Exit fingertips through blue mist to touch lips and take trips
I'm blunted like rubber tips
Shipful of hits of acid taken in the past, but I'm still fucking blasted, classic
I'm fucking dramatic (yo, where the fuck are we?)
I don't think we passed it, keep going
Trekking to Mecca, my internal vendetta
Is to wreck my perspective, resurrect it
We getting higher to die, purified through the fire
Through trials I go, if I survive, take me to green isles
Otherwise kiss my eyelids closed
This is the road I chose, I roam alone
(Rejected) I hate the way my vision's oscillating
Guide no longer by my side, I'm too high
Neglected, I sit waiting (reflecting)