[Verse, Continuous double-time flow] I got a tick in my vision, I'm pickin' apart every brick in the building I'm flickin' through pictures and clipping the symbols, convinced there's a script in the ceiling A square in the frame and a compass beside it, I circle the image and scribble beside it Thirty-three showing up twice in a night, now my fictional mind wanna multiply it I see an eye in a triangle, eye on a dollar, eye in a logo, I'm eyeing 'em all I see the black and the white on the tile and imagine a lodge in the back of the hall Knock-knock-knock when the snare drum cracks, three little taps and I snap right back Light-light-light in the sample gets chopped, now LIGHT in the static sounds almost like facts I'm mapping the masonry, matching the angles, attaching a meaning to patterns and panels I'm stacking analogies rapidly, actually turning the city to riddles and channels Pillars on either side, Jachin and Boaz, sun on the left and the moon on the right Level and plumb in the language I'm using, the tools become metaphors under the light Rough stone, smooth stone, shape what you started, build up the mind till the mind gets guarded But in this story the narrator twists it, says every old symbol means power consolidated Entered, passed, raised, three little stages, three little phrases, three little pages Then I see threes in the streets and the screens till coincidence feels like somebody arranged it Fast with the pattern, I'm back with the chatter, the syllables scatter then snap in position Fact into fiction, suspicion to vision, a symbol becomes an entire religion Thirty-three degrees in the story I'm spinning, thirty-three reasons I'm counting and grinning Thirty-three seconds I stare at a scene, then swear that the scene had a code at beginning Wait, that's the trap when you're hunting a pattern, ignore what don't match and collect what is matching Give me a number, enough random data, I'll find it again if I keep overlapping Still I'm in character, deep in the basement with printouts and red little threads on the table Drawing a line from a seal to a sign to a date to a name to a corporate label BUY in the billboard, OBEY in the bass line, SLEEP in a whisper that's buried in playback RISE in the lighting, WATCH in the writing, I swear there's a word when I reverse the eight-track Maybe it's nothing but noise getting molded by expectation already inside me Maybe the brain hates a meaningless sound, so it fills in the blank with whatever might guide me But for the thriller I'm hearing it clearly, the architect speaking in frequencies near me Square up your thinking, encompass the planet, the message repeats and it rattles me yearly One eye open, two pillars standing, three knocks landing, four walls branding Five-point geometry drawn in the margins, six more arrows and now I'm demanding Who put the symbol in cinema scenery? Who put the checkerboard under celebrity feet? Who made the camera hold on the triangle right when the kick and the choreography meet? Could be a director who likes an aesthetic, could be a reference, dramatic, poetic But my paranoid character files it as evidence, turns an artistic decision prophetic I'm seeing the compass in clocks and the square in the screens and the G in geometry glowing I'm seeing the sun and the moon in the logos and swearing the people designing 'em know it I got a catalogue, photographs, timestamps, hand signs, headlines, monuments, floor plans Every connection gets one more connection till suddenly everything fits in the program Back of the dollar, unfinished pyramid, eye at the top and the Latin surrounding it NOVUS and ORDO and SECLORUM floating while drums make the old iconography sound ominous Real little symbols with centuries of history, wild interpretations get layered upon 'em One person sees civic ideals in the imagery, one sees a secret committee behind 'em I'm not gonna tell you the latter is factual, this is a fictional fever I'm rapping through But I can make paranoia sound cinematic when every internal rhyme keeps attacking you Annuit in echoes, the choir gets reversed, I hear something wicked embedded beneath it Play it again and the phrase disappears, then play it once more and my mind will complete it That's pareidolia riding the rhythm, ambiguous audio becoming a sentence That's confirmation bias collecting the hits while conveniently losing contradictory evidence But in the verse I'm possessed by the puzzle, I'm doubling syllables over the muzzle Kick-snare, kick-snare, lock to the grid, then triplet a phrase and come back on the one, though Masonry, mastery, mystery, masquerade, marble and mortar and money and motorcades Markets and ministers, media imagery, fictional meetings in candlelit colonnades Measure the measure, then measure who measures, a ruler can rule and a level can level Language got layers, so I make every tool into double entendres while dancing with devils [Guitar Solo}
