Clean Conscience - East Coast Avengers

I’m an ego, megalomaniac: Lex Luthor

Brainiac, Gorilla Grodd in a fog, legion of doom

Season of gloom, Solomon Grundy meeting King Kong Bundy

Ain’t a single one among me in the room

Wanna' meet the bang of the boom

Click of the clack just as soon luminous shadow

Until the battle really rattle my world

Valley girl rappers get hurled through the pavement

That’s how ECA make a statement

Obliterate your essence and form

Your presence is gone like adolescents buried in porn

Pictures worn and their sentences gone

Like born identities, my enemies warned

Their families mourn like Kennedys

You motherfuckers know I bust a flow in psychotropic glow

I smother foes and trample em like a herd of buffalo

The style you just came up with yo I structured like a month ago

My hand is running all the pile driver’s, Mister Wonderful

I’m indestructible, the bodies hanging in my bungalow

My iron claw is like the one that reccomends and tears at

You’re generic like the CVS brand

And you wonder why people leave your show to go and see the next band

We do this all independently, we got a clean conscience

That’s a good sign of a bad memory

Law-born war babies whose well-being depends on factors

Of head-strong actors and defence contractors

Pay cuts, taxes, shake up axis, wake up, facts is this

Channel 7 shake up my mother’s nest sending her threats

Dudes watch MTV, buy shit with rubber cheques

Pure girls get their allure and grace took

By well-paid rebels, Myspace and Facebook

Soldiers put their life on the line, we put our life in these lines

Throw up the peace sign

I ain’t never gonna' be what you want me to be

Never gonna' see what you want me to see

I’m close to the murder sprees

Courtesy of neo-con burglary

Cause we all wanna' be burden-free

You can be what I want you to be

If you can see what I want you to see

And that’s a 3D speeding bullet

I’ll pull it and put it in place so we can finally meet face-to-face

I can no longer write well, I got a tight well

My penmanship is gone but the sentences are strong

And you know I never write a song

This be all stream of consciousness

Take one and it’s on

Take two and three if it’s wrong

Possibilities are endless when you do it penless

You can reinvigorate but the sickest hate holds you back

Like eyelids of eyeballs watching tickertape

The art of yore manipulates your ear (what)

The visual manipulates your fear (no)

You oughta sell another Red Sox makes you cheer (yes)

So you don’t have to think about the people that are stationed (where?)

I can never really go home

I’m prone to fits of rage that ain’t fit for a man of my age

My stature is that of a man wrapped up in his mind strapped up to the nines

The gates of rapture open, when I’m having trouble coping

I’ll capture your frame in a scope and then your silhouette goes

From fluid motion to frozen, like you’re posing for a centerfold

But your whole centerfold’s looking more

Like you’re dozing in and out of REM sleep

That’s why the feds keep me on a blacklist, the fact is

I’m down for a revolution, violent

Never taking captives, looking for a resolution

Lower-class looking for a restitution

No one asked where our votes went in 2000

Lost or hidden like the overcoat I keep my two pounds in

I creep where you sleep, lounging collect the bounty

From the crowds in the street while your body’s laying at their feet

And your body heat seeps from your clothing

The fear and loathing of America is slowly buried with ya'

With every image of ya' lying at a press conference

I’ll leave you lying in your best-pressed suit unconscious

Finally with a clean conscience