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falou com o vento pt. 1

from by Lando Chill

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The lost art of being human is the show of love,
Like Monet or van Gogh,
Or a cut above ,
See I’m Pollock with the words and a fisted glove,
Held just right above the olive branch and the dove,
With wings clipped and beak chipped from the glass cage and shit
Its like the whole worlds a zoo
Where everybody watch screens and chant you don’t you
While the cellies in yo body and yo bullshittin hobbies need thy vitamins too
(and vicodin don’t count)
still the feds Orwelli to the bellies of American youth
the voting booth be the edge of the tip of the tooth
see the mouth so wide we split pride while it swallows the truth

verse 2

catch thermals with the feathers on the dermal on my soul,
hit the bowl of the face of a cliff ,
and go to space for a bit,
and dream back all the land that we stole,
from the forest of the rain to the south-est of poles
we burn the darkest of coals,
and pipeline the earth blood,
dateline come on at 9 when our planets gives up,
we give the ye-est of shrugs,
til its deep impact and we praying to the gods that none of us love
so lace up big fella,
and watch them pockets
use people for they profits,
like aint you from the tropics
they stories for our topics
my nigga peep the optics

but them rose tinted glasses fitted mighty nice
aint no fog up in them shits if your skin tone light
while you sun beneath the sun til that skin tone right
we pray to make it through the night if our fate is right


from The Boy Who Spoke To The Wind, released June 23, 2017


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Lando Chill Los Angeles, California

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