III (The Third)

Song: III (The Third)

Album: Breathing Without A Pulse

Artist: The Blend

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released December 6, 2011

ref: http://theblendmusic.bandcamp.com/track/iii

Joe Sodd the third

Couldn’t get it out my head, or get it off my chest, so I wrote it on my shirt

It’s kinda funny bein’ human nowadays,

I can feel the minutes swimmin’ relay races through my veins, but

If death wants to flirt

She can find me at Sadies dancin’ with taxes and every other common curse

I cut the grin, she drops the smirk

We save the talk ‘cos we both know she’s crazy like a fox

And not worth a promise first if I can’t even promise earth

That I’ll be back every time my shoes lift off the dirt

Love your life and it’ll love you back… sure

I’ll hold to that as much as gravity’s just a word

Because to learn how to fly, you gotta learn how to fall

And if you can stick the landin’ then you can fool’em all

Y’see the queens in recess never needed kings or crowns

They could freeze tag a game of kickball because they owned the crowd

I outran the herd and only slowed down to walk my grandma to church

She tells me stories of family fire and madness

I tell her keep it real, she tells me keep it Irish Catholic

And it’s that quick between a woman’s Sunday best

And I kid tryin’ to tame a Sunday mess

In urban warfare courtin’ cold stares

And crotch grabbin’ but it doesn’t mean you’ve grown a pair

You’re only 1 in an equation of these avenues active factors

Building with addition by subtraction

Kacklackin’ contraptions, slightly shy of dien’ laughin’

Cryin’ and smiling; for the same moment passin’

-

CHORUS

Excuse me while I close my eyes

Turn off the headlights and blow through this stop sign

You wanna find out what’s meant to be

Well, let me show you how to let go of everything

Excuse me while I close my eyes

Turn off the headlights and blow through this stop sign

You wanna find out what’s meant to be

Well, let me show you how to let go of everything

-

His gun shook like his confidence when he told me hands up

While hip-hop was hand in hand with hip-hop in handcuffs

By then I’d had enough and let the hammer drop

Pulled the machine loose ‘cos Minneapolis or not

This town can catch fire for all I care

So put your cigarette lighters and spray cans in the air

This goes to those huffin’ happiness out the zip loc

For the fallen bridges a governor couldn’t lift up

This goes to those who’ve been to the bottom of the bag

And’ve been back to take another drag

See I can spell addiction with four letters

I’ll show you how, but you’ll have to pour another beverage

It gets worse just before the good weather

So, me laughin’ at the rain- that’s just for good measure

Sometimes ya grin just to look clever

And that’s ok, ‘cos I only do it when I’m outta leverage

Understand the circumstances won’t get acceptance

So if there’s any last bullets and words- how ‘bout you send’em

See we can stare and grin and countdown the seconds,

But even death in old westerns didn’t get a moment’s preface

So, by the time ya gotta call the New Avengers,

They’ll be shootin’ messages through the messengers

You never expected it’d all come back to par

And the balance would return like the Hulk from Sakaar

Well, I’m here. Listenin’ to the wind kiss the trees

Sometimes mistook for sewage flowin’ underneath the streets

In a blink of this war, I could’ve swore for sure

I saw Joe Sodd the Third bikin’ around the corner

CHORUS

Hello Joseph, today the summer sun was shinin’ bright

But somehow the city fell frozen

You can see the traffic weave and the stoplights change colors

But for what if the earth stop movin’

Somethin’ must be missin’, somethin’ must be missin’

Somethin’ must be missin’, somethin’ must be missin’

Somethin’ must be missin’, somethin’ must be missin’

Somethin’ must be missin’, somethin’ must be missin’

Somethin’ must be missin’, somethin’ must be missin’

Somethin’ must be missin’, somethin’ must be missin’

Somethin’ must be missin’, somethin’ must be missin’

Somethin’ must be missin’…

DearDeerView

Song: DearDeerView

Album: Breathing Without A Pulse

Artist: The Blend

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released December 6, 2011

ref: http://theblendmusic.bandcamp.com/track/deardeerview

I tie the laces to my shoes the same as any afternoon

And set foot between the walls and your halls and deserted rooms

What’s up kids, I’m here to speak at your alternative school

Seems your luck don’ got you stuck in academic servitude

With less than words to use or choose, a lot more than nerves to lose

It’s cool to turn pissed when your teacher’s a stern prick

Skip class and hit more pipes than Bob Burnquist

Taught ya to accept the phrase that life isn’t a game

While the future warden’s blueprintin’ prisons in your name

He’s in the high school next door top’n the test scores

With nothin’ to stress for except the gas in daddy’s Escort

Born on third base and coulda swore he hit a triple

Workin’ with a full drumkit, while all ya got is a cymbal

Oh, you’d love to take it to’em for all that you been through

Between a rock and a principal’s office- Los in limbo

Tell me, was it your childhood dream to put on a mask

And give a lap or a tap dance for somebody else’s cash

Makes you wanna cut until you hit a vein

Makes you wanna stand up for the words sittin’ in your brain

But you can’t take the master’s house with tools from the master’s toolshed

You’ll have to paint without your whites, blues, or reds

Until the day you drop out or graduate

Enjoy the free sandwich out the b-b-b-b-b-b-bag

I don’t wanna see another genius defeated

‘Cos someboday taught’em lies as a f-f-f-f-f-f-fact

Life’s a freestyle, go on and make it up

Skateboardin’, smokin’ and breakin’ stuff

Skateboardin’, smokin’ and breakin stuff

Fresh out of 38^th st. with love

-

CHORUS

If the day’s a wage

And life is war

Then

What are you alive for

Now, ‘cos I stay where I’m from

Don’t mean that I ain’t gon’ come up

‘Cos I grow where I’m from

Planted where I stand- planted where I stand

-

If you’re from where I’m from then give it up

Where either your dad’s a drunk or your dad doesn’t give a-

Maybe he’s both like mine, only good for puttin’ forth

And great example of a father that I’d never like to be

Family’s turn to jail cells and even pickin’ locks can’t help

Nobody’s listenin’, so you have to fight to speak

Light a fire to make’em see, runaway to prove a point

Grab a blunt, a spray can and a black to steal some joy

We feel destroyed for nothin’ in a battle of decoys

In a lost culture, forgotten B-girls gave birth to B-boys

We leave a void in the presence of authority

The history they don’t teach is their way of avoidin’ it

Now, as the schoolhouse rocks steady with hegemony

It makes you wonder if unemployment has a pre-destiny

You rest your eyes upon anywhere else

And set your heart on everything outside yourself

Detention-daydreamin’ of pieces fittin’ the frame

Urban romances, slow dancin’, kissin’ in the rain

Lovely livin’ the day without riskin’ a thing

For someone to look you in the eye and listen to what you say

But you’re lost and forgot who you’re explainin’ yourself to

Alternative to what? And alternative to who?

(Yes, you’re now listenin’ to the undermined, blue collar, workin’-class sounds of The Blend. Ladies and gentlemen, b-boys and b-girls please unlearn while you can.)

CHORUS

Get free or get a degree

Or get both and hope to God you don’t end up like me

A twenty-somethin, good for nothin’, gum bumpin’, bar jumpin’

Non-student-loan-payment-makin’, coffeeshop-slumpin

Broken-home representative in the land of Longfellow

Survivalist or not? That depends on what you call ghetto

Workin’-class, blue collar, failure amongst scholars

Urban program, suspended, left behind condemned to follow

Had ya tracked since smokin’ packs at recess

Called up the summer school and they save your seat and desk

Now, if ya got it then get into it

They’d rather see ya high-strung out on depressants and stimulants

Than addicted and hooked-on Malcolm and Marx

It starts with a shout in the dark- they wonder why we yell

When they don’t listen, we stop listenin’ to ourselves

Wanderin’ hallways and monotonous class schedules

Left to speak through silence and reverse psychology

It’s like these teachers are getting’ hired and paid and praised to fuck with me

There’s no luckily, there’s no duck and weave

Advisors advise ya to chillax and just breathe

To kill your questions, to erase your anger

To unboil your heart, to sanitize your language

Upon these moments, do not dare be hesitant

For the beast will leave you in the realms of irrelevant

Ranked by class grades when already eminent

So all the school can do for you is insult your intelligence

College students hold discussion groups of what you’re goin’ through

But never wanna hold a discussion about their own shoes

Letter to the editor, professor and principal

Don’t fuck with a mind state that you haven’t been to

Don’t fuck with a culture that you don’t live through

Taking authority from a situation you don’t give to

These words and expectations run adjacent

Until you’re educatin’ how the rich stay rich

Dear, Deerview- please check the rearview

And keep an eye on where these snakes try and steer you

Well, it’s been a fine visit on this rhyme clinic

Enjoy your day in RedWing, it’s been a fine visit

And there’s no such thing as kings

It’s just a term invented by men to undermine queens

Have a nice day in class…

OMFG

Song: OMFG

Album: Breathing Without A Pulse

Artist: The Blend

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released December 6, 2011

ref: http://theblendmusic.bandcamp.com/track/omfg

You’re never gonna get another chance just like this

Whether or not you like it

-

PRE-CHORUS

Put it right, put it wrong

Find somethin’ to put it on

You shoutin’ help beneath the ground

Through the ceiling, now hear the sound

-

CHORUS
This isn’t vote or die for someone else’s highness

I gave the rich a slow goodbye without silence

Your high-class politics don’t define shhhh

I’m famous as Satan- bitch, and I ain’t even signed yet

-

You say thing’s are gonna change, but ya don’t know how

Ya say someday, but you won’t say now

PRE-CHORUS

CHORUS