"How's your summer been? Mine's been fine. [...] Well, you know, I wrote a little poem about it and I really hope you like it. So, have your mother read it to you, and if you guys like it you can write me back." - Sole

This is, I suppose, my offering to hip-hop heads searching for...well...I'll let you interpret the verse. I think it is a lucid message.

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Run it quick. Burn!

...moral objection. This is none of your concern.

Run through'em, split the virgin - we can take turns.

This isn't coital I just raped the planet; learn.

Sick yards, strip it; scarred. Let's get'em while getting's hard. Good doesn't describe eco-pillage - incredible edible cars.

...let the bidding start.

Contract the world away. Who needs menagerie miscellanea when you can have system decay?

And, we can play the game - strip and create, wrest, bait, capital date, mate, wasting the resource base.

Spit in the face - somnambulant base,

"Gimme a taste, baby, (I) just need a taste."

Aggregate degradation with no shot to alleviate

I think I'll fulminate so we might reevaluate...

Live and learn; build the city.

Artificial - make it pretty.

Zero-sum. Making gains. By myself; no coming with me.

Natural but artifice cloak, forever broke, wrote the bankrupt token position - that's how I'm living, yo.

Riding the fence (edit) fulcrum of incensed, I'll take climatic changes and I'll tip to the left.

Shift the pattern and current, patent offense; sh*t is lurid.

Sustain the paradigmatic burden and you're in, not urine.

Pretense is potential serving currency; earn'em

Rep the wreck and ruin ensuing as it's occurring.

- AnthrAx

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