High John The Conqueror Speaks

from by War Church

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This is our worldview five years since New Age Middle Finger


N.I.G.G.E.R.... nigger (pronounced nig-uh). Dodging “Broken Window” prisons. Interesting stress invested. Soldier affixed to an unassigned war. Wounds rewritten as tattoos drunkenly purchased under a bad moon. Urban Plan the heard of man to the slaughter under the act of “protesting” anchored to an ancient human place of ruin. Planet ticking, tilted, stationed in “Storyville” orbiting an manipulated culture: cult x ultra. Process thoughts through substractive paintings and attractive phrases. Strength of a porcelain fortress or porters force fed to the dust bunnies of the upper crust. Yet, (they) knuckles up for portraits. Welcome to the horse head pillow karma and the apologist that come with it; a swing state of mind applied to whatever is comforting. Dealing with “context visibility,” ink sleeve filigree and compt’d drinks. Tracing most ghost back ounce pours mean to slow nights into pretty lights but forced tortured portraits under the eyelids in silent seconds. At most, floored by the crowded boat by the “after-hours” building light. The after life rented of “feeling right”.The backward showers to heal or kill the time. A mass of cowards acting sour lacquered in a villains light. I see it as a lantern. I see them as patterns. I see it as beacons for every roach that scatters. Its like playing dice with passion. A handshake with lies to plagiarize the kinship. Its different when A-alikes are laughing. This is steel/cement with cigs, Zippo lights and matches. It’s kiddy-tinged fiction that takes its time with habits. It’s a Wonderland rabbit quoting Sunz of Man verses while tallying a congresses favorite type of “Blackness”. And that’s an awkward human high five. They auction you yet offer you a propaganda “why try?” They often move to drop its view into Op ed by-lines. An authors tool to crop his views into curated fines. That’s why we say it (nigger) so much to fill in the blanks or we lost and its just a prison without feeling restrained.

That’s an impossible feat and I’ll repeat

Imma live life after this one time

We went from Bill of Sale to barcode at the speed of deifying Jesus and all we got was a balcony to believe in? Bleed in? Too Alive! when the liver, lung and heart unionize. Removing lines from the paper as contracts or rorschachs for the neighbors. After the fire but before the half breed life comes favors a janitors management and caters to the sanity collapsing, per season, to stay in fashion with weaklings. This is not a grin! It’s just misplaced fuck I forgot to give. To logic of faking sibling with shiftless. Maybe I’m just fishing the offended like a modern cynic, the gulp before describing ‘black clothing.” American Gothic Architecture and what pigeon holds. Blood pressure predicting my future through chick bones. Post-Rap! Post Black! Bleached Arethas and Winehouses with dirty faces. Blonde kids running around their African mother/maids. Rather, their African-made mothers. Rather, their maids from Africa that acts mothers to feed their own kids. Or the sum the distance. Slightly sorry if I localize tragedy or vocalize the downward spiral like an outsider masterpiece but I just saw a man bring a baby grand to the park, then play dead composers, shit on a cat with buckets of scraps brave enough to play his own work and thought “damn, whats more American than that?” In heritage, embarrassment so arrogant and crass. It varies in its parries yet stays Aryan and Black. Nefarious, yet there he is, in legacy of man. NEFARIOUS YET THERE HE IS IN THE LEGACY OF MAN! The collecting and reconstructing echoing forgotten sounds... and how we act like our fathers when their not around! The sum of the sun that pass through eyelids and silence in between evictions. 3 decades of dust. Rust colored water. Someone else’s daughter. The amorphous order of importance in the structure we built...



from Gunship Diplomacy, released October 21, 2016
Produced by Analog(ue) Tape Dispenser
Additional Production by A.M. Breakups
Lyrics/Vocals by SKECH185



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