He's a holy rolling soldier, roaming slowly while Rome smolders.
Keeps his chin up, and his chest out,
He's been skipping corner stones from the get go.
He's wasted some sound,
Wasted some time,
Wasted his love,
and wasted his prime.
He doesn't give a mother-fuck.
That's right.
When your oceans full of oil you've got bigger fish to fry.
She's always sad,
but she never cries.
So when he starts to leave,
She can act surprised.
There's nothing wrong with believing lies,
and if you hate the truth,
there's no sacrifice.
If it looks too good,
believe your eyes,
If you burn your books,
That's called Libricide.
Perfect.
Compromising science like you cursed it.
He's a handy man.
He's a know-it-all.
He's a bruiser and a dead-eye and the quickest draw.
Chip the size of Venus on his shoulder,
and he bore the burden openly,
To show the world he's over it.
He said:
"I don't want to be more famous than I am,
But I could always use a couple billion friends."
From Johannesburg, South Africa, terrence? delivers an EP of gorgeous soul and moody hip-hop surrounded atmospheric production. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 13, 2022