Viewing Lyrics for Personal Journalist:

Artist:Sage Francis
No album artwork found
Track:Personal Journalist
Date Added:18/10/2007
Rating:not yet rated     
Sage Francis...Personal Journalist, 1968 to 2001

(Verse 1)
He left with
deep breaths in each chest that needs less innovating Cause
there still debating over what rhyme
skill is
Sick of waiting for time killers to get over there murder raps
And then he sold his
own shirt off his back for cheap exposure
Seek for closure but stayed open minded
seemed to keep composure, peeking over both his eyelids
Speaking vulgar in misleading cultures
of ultra violence
Teaching others how to be more loving with brotherly guidance
A bleeding
soldier knows the science
He does the math quick and writes without having to think
Without asking for advice, letting the scalps peel
Having brains picked by head lice
before the scabs heal
His death mask conceals his face paint
It feels like a safe place, but
it ain't
Feels like its safety seals faith, but it don't
He's not a real saint, just another
one of those religious political jokes
And that's not even half of the nutshell
Cats are
compelled to crack open and extract his blood cells
From, when he comes back from hell
He'll have a few bones to pick with a fractured skeleton

Sage Francis...anti-socialite...secret admirer
Student loaner...continental
drifter...professional day lifter
Spin doctor...self-referentialist...personal

Word, its the worthless wordsmiths
We're conversing with
impersonal twists
Heard the concern with making the Earth ship
These kid games are
When all art is signed anonymous
He'll turn that big bang theory into a small pop

Sage Francis...death merchant...1968 to 2001
Devoted son,
father to none
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