Urban Mosaic

Yeah

Check the frequency

Late night, streetlights, cold ink

Listen close

I sketch drafts under lamps where the kerosene burns Staring at the

cement waiting for the spirit to turn Writing heavy scriptures on the

back of receipts With a golden mind trapped inside these blacked-out streets

The ink bleeds past the margins of my ancient design Constructing complex

arches in the chamber of mind No master can define how the

narrative grows Just a Southern voice speaking where the cold water flows

We build castles out of dust in the dark

Chasing every flicker of a vintage spark Heavy is the crown but

the foundation is deep We stay awake to dream while the rest

of them sleep

Yeah, we stay awake to dream while they sleep Every paragraph is

weighted like a mountain of lead Speaking to the living with the

breath of the dead I paint portraits of the struggle on a

canvas of stone A king sitting patient on a makeshift throne No

smoke and mirrors, just the truth in the track With the weight

of my ancestors holding my back The needle hits the groove and

the story begins Washing all our shadows in the river of sins

Let the vinyl spin Yeah Late night session

Feel the warmth Keep it soulful Underground forever Yeah

Late night broadcast, signing

off