i m not in pictures that your parents took i m not described in your stack of holy books i wasn t born in your seven day i m not the monster your fathers made can t break my bones if you can t pronounce my name i ll elude what your top thinkers might conceive your wanted sketch doesn t resemble me i wasn t born in your family tree i don t want blood or your charity you won t believe that your maker thought up me your common cold is my trojan horse defeat and my fine cuisine is your world catastrophe i might be dormant on your ocean floor or in the margins of error you ignore you can t survive in the class of air i breathe
['abstract hip hop', 'downtempo']