in my little island i’m a little high at night i meet the light around my middle eye _________ [Rapped with a focused, hypnotic flow] Yeah, they see a prison, I see a private archipelago, Where the altitude is measured by how deep the concepts go. My third iris is a rare device, a pair of dice I roll in paradise, It sees the spectrum that the naked eye neglects 'em, I dissect and then protect 'em. The mainland's full of static and man-made fanatics, My attic's more erratic but at least the view's cinematic. This ain't a temporary high from a chemical release, It's a peace that I increase when the mental currents cease. So this isn't isolation, it's a calculated flight, My spirit's immigration to a different kind of light. ____ let the day away what ever came my way i lie in bed and pray the sun will rise again down down into the silence round round adrift and mindless dreaming in technicolor drown in crystal skies ___ [Flow remains rhythmic and intricate] "Adrift and mindless," yeah, that's the initial diagnosis, 'Til you focus on the locust of your own hypnosis. The silence has a syntax, a violent climax of relaxing the synapse, A vacuum that's vibrant, where the tyrants of time are defiant, no client or appliance. I'm drowning in the pigment, a figment of my own intent, divinely sent, The crystal skies are fractured, every shard is manufactured By a thought I have captured and the rapture I'm after. So when you hear the prayer for the sun to come again, Just understand the dawn is not a question of "when," It's the ignition switch that's buried deep within. _____ "in my little island i’m a little high at night i meet the light around my middle eye" "in my little island i’m a little high at night i meet the light around my middle eye" "in my little island i’m a little high at night i meet the light around my middle eye"
