Ebony Tusks - HDF Lyrics

Came into the world allergic to the counterfeit, quarter water, pocket lint
Obstacles to profit make a youngin' switch his countenance, beggar flip to monstrous
Doubt from unbelievers strong as faith I'm movin' mountains with

Clouds above unsettled dust, arouse the ghosts in exodus
Inadvertent conjuring, the ground awoke to self-destruct
Onward to oblivion, a march of poisoned animus
Man confronting self, you've not the courage nor the stamina

Abandon ship or ante up, we plunge the depths when given room
Dove from off the high board to a shark-infested swimming pool
Signatures and dotted lines, bloodlust over principles
Wouldn't waste the ink but Ima show you what this pen'll do

Sword of truth forever sharp, hostile in assemblage
Love to point some fingers like you haven't lost appendages
Carpal tunnel grip, I've broken arms and cloaked the evidence
While pondering a future having not foregone apprenticeship

Metalsmith - smitten by the hammer chose to forge the blade
Watchful of the temperature and how it would distort the shape
Atoms fit to shudder and convulse over an open flame
Generations forward, brick & mortars full of golden chains

Profit and economy, pockets swole from presidents
Peddle, grit, and hustle - then and now, unbroken testament
Tunnel vision dimming as a lie's enforced in rhetoric
Coping mechanism for a life conformed to prejudice

Who could ever hurt you once you hate the person you've become
And opportunity has turned to someone quicker to respond
No one ever said it would be comfortable for you and yours
When it comes to business, better back it up or scoot along

Hunger made him less than civil, scoffing at the gluttonous
Paper-thin provisions but allowed to call it sustenance
Nibble on forbidden fruit in cardigans and button-ups
Copious consumption when you hardly stomach governance

Broken bread with blessed coven, squad composed of heretics
Lucid shamans, wandering spirits and sober derelicts
Body, blood, and bullet, ill-advised to be so desperate
Fear of missing out like you about this war and pestilence

Chefin' from a haunted kitchen, summon of the dinner bell
Glad to be of service if you want specific personnel
Farm-to-table offerings, sommelier & zinfandel
Underpaid & overworked to demonstrate we live in hell

Above or here below, it's levels to the drudgery
Calloused from ceramics, napkins enveloping cutlery
Cursing under breath of special guests and their accompanied
Never worked a shift where you were not impaired and stumbling

Self-medicate when feeling minuscule
And try to fill the void with other broken individuals
Estimates for disrepair, no specialists to take it to
Please don't shoot the messenger, I'm sorry, I don't make the rules