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Little Death

Artist:Lupe Fiasco 

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Lupe Fiasco: Now bring it out like a finger in the back of your mouth Cherubs and cerebellum, Tara at Sarah's wedding Sam marrying Sam, band pushed upon the finger of Sam's hairiest hand If that sickens you, you a bigot If it doesn't, well then you wicked Such is life, odd as Egg McMuffins at night No answers, so let us watch these dancers Structure reformed gracefully being born On the pallet of dark grays, concaves and spirals Kaleidoscopes into a Eiffel It ripples then it tidals, vacillates then it virals Babylons then it Bibles and others And tell me of the spinning mothers And today's mathematics for belovers And beasts' bellies covered like the cummerbunds of butlers Nikki Jean: How was your day? Can I make what you say? What I wanna hear 'cause I want you here The hell that we raised to the heavens do anything for La petite mort, la petite mort Lupe Fiasco: They keep the bottles just to make glass houses Then climb up to the second floors and throw rocks out it Then expect not a volley in reply Some place vulnerable like probably in the eye What of the chicken? What is it missin', is it dry? Did it die in some inhumane conditions so it didn't go relaxed And the tension from its demise pulled all of the flavor from the fat And made it flat and rather lifeless Well there's a place that has a stunning turbot and more mercifully murdered Pisces But barbaric are still the prices, it's rather niceless, apricot in dices and fromage slices My son will call risotto rices, if and when he's left to his own devices, well


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