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From the forthcoming EP by Atari Blitzkrieg and Dirt E. Dutch.



ch-ch-chop it up, toss it back, cough it up,
i'll forgive your feelings feeling like that's why you brought it up
b-b-brought it up again, b-brought it up again, b-brought it up again, b-brought it up

this is where the boredom ends, cut the cord, born again,
then bore within deforming forehead skin til forms of horns begin
forge the horror informing scorned when swarming in then warm 'em then with torches sent to scorch four horsemen storming in
go and store them in, the floor before the mortar's in, it's morbid when your form descends to ashes stashed in porcelain,
by smashing plastered ornaments and blasting out of orbit enter tournaments, forming with mortals morphing to Scorpion, get over here
I hope you hear the hope I steer through open ears, i overseer, a falling out now I found the coast is clear,
closely near to kill time and find out if ghosts appear,
mostly peer in approaching fear itself repelled with broken mirrors,
we all float down here, here exists a picture faded the framing ripped from the grips of Satan
flip the script the gifts belated, grit the rich interpolated,
circulated down drain the stains from wrists they've perforated,

go and bask in baths of acid spilled, fashioned guilt for fascists fattened fast off of cash and bags of pills,
til the caskets filled, perhaps the will is slowly fading, mostly raining waiting for floods i've summoned to ghost the layman
so we pray then for days i awake and face the facts, base it on math, a race to replace the faith that i've lately lapped
trapped inside a shell it's like a cell it's like my self'll seldom tell dispelling myths amidst the mist of fibs they often tell
well, more sense I rise to save it cuz saving a life I find as i'm wiser is overrated,
awake in a maze a maiden is waiting, while waving wading to waist in the waste creating the faith that remains ingrained in us
slaves are trained to trust, the rusted chains are breaking up,
lacing up for marching we're starting parched to the lips just dust
cut, beneath the surface, first, immersed in serpents earth emerged to served at birth a persons worth
perfect blues, a hue confused with bruised contusions crudely shown,
mutants fuming, tuned to Huey Newton cue the metronome
tick, tock, tick, i'm thinking death to clones, molded from my image envision the hate they laced their bones
traced to homes the home where heart is departed, partly we pardon martyrs marking from start where the end's a centered target
repentant carcass, barking up the tree of life, slicing off the limbs while the wind'll whisper you see the light,


released August 16, 2019

Rhymes by Atari Blitzkrieg. Beat by Dirt E. Dutch

Cover Art:

Photography by Melton Sharpe. Design by Chris Moore.


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Dirt E. Dutch Connecticut

Dirt E. Dutch is a hip hop creator and curator from Connecticut.

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