Time and Money

Many dancers swinging like pendulums, many singers singing around them.

Which one to follow, beat to rhythms, hollow bones, they need decisions.

Never in the beginning, they skipped to finish, raw and uncooked, bad at fishing.

What's on the strings, don't compose their own instruments, paralyzed musicians.

No use touching their sticks, most are sterilized so they stick to melodic pleasuring.

Visualize sporadic pictures in black and neon colors, alternatively called atomic measuring.

So-called scientists, can't see that then you're not seeing harder, microscopic levels entering.

Know all these artists were handed these opportunities, martyr beliefs for photographic stardom.

I go off each category at random, start the timer, sixty minutes just to make some poems for me.

Some won't call them poetry, but don't show what is considered so I deliver these rhythmic sentences.

Say these rappers nowadays capture what lyrics do, so they rap on mathematics arithmetic with it no?

Get that sweet fit, beat hit, speak it out loud now and hand planned conclusions at fast revolutions a minute, go.

Winning slow, lyric levels low so they spit it like bullets, well-timed strikes turn to raining hail rhymes tonight.

Dropping bite-sized words, got your lifestyles worked up, let the hype go down to set up the comeback next track.

Ride around the hands of time, the pendulum, ride with the arms of time, the hourglass as the hour pass.

Sometimes the last words you've ever spoken is your net worth before they cut you open.