<< LYRICS >>

FRANTIC:
Poetry, my first love, let me offer you a ring
Let’s meld ourselves together, what will our future bring?
From scribbles in a math notebook, the first time that we met
You’ve been by my side, no surprise, raining or sunset

So many notebooks, filled with trash and gold
Still burning embers, a flame unmatched to hold
You set a fire in me, then you winked and sent me on this journey
These syllables and metaphors, my tongue would yearn to speak

You gave me my voice, a pennant poised to hoist
Ironically became a place to shelter from the noise
Pen and paper alloys, a shell with which to grace
Scribbling and scratching ink stains on my carapace

Let’s make haste, let’s get to it, let’s make our kind of music
Ever since this love was shown to me, my heart could not refuse it
My first ode to you my dear, certainly not the last
My heart beats fast, past me aghast, they can watch how long we last

This union that we have, let’s push ourselves the farthest
This is just the beginning, I know i’ll try my hardest
But you gotta make a lotta garbage if you want to be an artist
Let’s make something to look back on, and smile at where it started

Conspiratory jeering glory, more than what it seems
Similes as strong as impredicativity
The nettles pour, memories of sticks and trees
The hissing streams, it would be remiss of me

We were handed someone else's dreams and ambitions
Couldn’t comprehend complicit, maybe that’s what’s been missing
If it means that you’ll revisit, a past so wrong and twisted
Would you reveal, would you risk it? If you screamed, would they listen?

This spraycan-stained hand, purveyor of the strange lands
Remain damned, clamped to scorch stained plans
Scoff at those who grasp hourglasses, grams of sand
I’d rather rage a rain dance, seeking risen fey plans

Emerge from the forest, portents of blood and bone
I’ll watch you die in your cities, licking flames in mud and stone
I say that with no malice, tears pour into your chalice
I’ll be howling at the moon beneath aurora borealis

CHORUS
Hello World, it’s nice to meet (Hello World!)
Happy Birthday to a brand new beast (Happy Birthday!)
x2

KID SOLOMON:
Average height, medium build
No more waiting for these shoes to get filled
highly versatile brain child, lyrically skilled
Any ape can use a tool but watch a real man drill

A nice Chianti and your flesh on the grill
Red stains on the carpet like a cabernet spill
Step into the valley of hyenas, you get killed
(Metaphorically of course, cause I'm a pacifist still)

Shadow boxing with my demons in the rafters
Confront the darkness till they out me put me out to pasture
Striving to overcome my addictions and attachments
To discipline the self is how your truly kill your masters

I fell in love with language when I was only yay high
Steady diet of humble pie, but now I rise
I slice and dice my opponents and don’t apologize
This mid-size writer’s a prize fighter, take you by surprise.

CHORUS
Hello World, it’s nice to meet (Hello World!)
Happy Birthday to a brand new beast (Happy Birthday!)
x2

KID SOLOMON
But let me take you back to ninth grade
Just a wide-eyed kid putting words on a page
Senior year, I’m performing for my peers;
Let me introduce you to a kid who has no fear

Always in trouble for talking in class,
The usual suspects, yeah, we got the the gift of the gab
They tried, but they could never keep me quiet
Try to muzzle this pup, and you gon’ get the incisors

Passion burning like a fire in my chest,
The call to of the wild says “young man, go west”
I use my brain like a bulletproof vest:
Don’t let the feelings out, keep em locked in the depths.

But then I found a world of words to help me understand my heart,
I wrote poems to keep from falling apart.
Discovered a talent, a touch of fire in the tongue,
And ever since then to this craft I've clung

So fly, so far-fetched and far flung
I think rhyme, spit rhythm, and now I'm done
Ha! That last line was a fucking lie
I keep spitting till the day I die

My man Frantic ain't just shooting the breeze
You gotta plant seeds if you wanna these see trees
gotta make a lotta garbage if you want to be an artist,
so I till soil and still toil for the harvest

You might be thinking 'What a damn conflagration
Of sound and fury and lyrical presentation!"
We don't hold back, cause that is not our function
Shiiit, this is just the introduction...

Chorus:
Hello World, it’s nice to meet (Hello World!)
Happy Birthday to a brand new beast (Happy Birthday!)
x2