Polaroid - Melanin 9, Karl Sage, Walterwarm

The finger snaps the frame to the eye a fraction seen

The world stops between the lens before we catch the dream

From bagging green, breaking down boxes to purchase villas

My girl went iller saw my first before she birthed the mirror

The kerb with sinners liquor merged beneath the bourbon zipper

Feds swerve with clips that burst they wish the purge to kill us

Disturbed visions of my vicious art, with precision script the craft

Every pixel is a distance image past

From dipping class to chopping weights shift in top estates

Some adopted Ks clicking Glocks where helicopters chase

We fostered hate pocket blades scrape Courvois and haze

Want my face to glisten with precision on the frosted chain

My (?) became to study gods with the exulted ploy

Shops open boys, feds watch like Shoguns poised

We swipe for stolen droids vivid like a polaroid

Descriptive photos of a violent bipolar boy

Now where do I start where do I go

They say the images we take steal a piece of our soul

She’s pretty in the pictures but inside she’s hollow

Look inside and get your third eye lens in control

Now where do I start where do I go

They say the images we take steal a piece of our soul

Dodging the police for the dough in the belly of the beast

That we roam got us losing our control

The stargazer, Allah script the parchment paper

Scarred like (?) dark liquor guava chaser

I’m a calm embracer fast in Saddam with geisha

Part the glacier masked in the dark Fantasia

My arms equator filled with black paints (?) gods

Ice planets around my wrist beneath a woven cloth

The young disposed inside a spliff before they focus rots

Evictions open (?) stick you from ferocious plots

I paint spirits with pens spill the ink and leave a print on your lens

Split the image with a cynic pretence

Stick your bitch with her promiscuous friends

Polar boy pics my scripts where the pernicious offend

I could vividly blend a cold nexus from my penmanship

From these dirty steps where I developed all my negatives

Seen through an opaque lens from the age is ten

Learn that pictures paint a thousand words when I scrape the pen

Now where do I start where do I go

They say the images we take steal a piece of our soul

She’s pretty in the pictures but inside she’s hollow

Look inside and get your third eye lens in control

Now where do I start where do I go

They say the images we take steal a piece of our soul

Dodging the police for the dough in the belly of the beast

That we roam got us losing our control

Now where do I start where do I go

They say the images we take steal a piece of our soul

Now where do I start where do I go

They say the images we take steal a piece of our soul