This is a Colab Writtin up just 4 hours ago, me and my boy Rudeboy BLUE were rippin it up to some instrumental, and this is what we got for this piece

KnightShade Productions Presents: Apatheater

Verse 1 : Rudeboy BLUE

I think I'm magna prone, melting away in the act of Rome
look past the throne, dust is collecting in the catacombs
preparing for the mass of bones my science long detaining
decaying in a cover shell, a shadow still berating
debating this derailing paradox, I wear the stocks
with the most evil of holies, killing time until I'm spared this box
and until the day I'm marked with blood I'll never share my crops
for which I've suffered the many sins that made my parents drop
and when day fades to ebony I sit remembering the long for passion...
the axis that made us betrayed us when we were song and dancin
the logs I've cabined, wedgin in the teeth of the smoke stacks
with no tracks, they're smelling the elation, can we hold that?
the new pollution, my windows breathe no absolution
so cram confusion... bleed myself, another damn delusion
I stand, defusin... sit and relieve the pain of legs
my brain is eggs... let it pass, there are no famous dregs

Verse 2: KnightShade

Left my crayons to waste in a story-boarded abandoned fate
God’s plan can wait,watch the vein bulge in his banished face
Go ahead and damn this place,I never liked it anyway…
It’s man-made & I’d fancy my ripped canvas landscape any day
Pave that empty grave you can’t manipulate such an endless space..
So I’ll save it from this damaged state & splatter my cans of paint
With Random aim over these tattered draped prison brick walls
Now mimic how the drips crawl,& follow the leaders to the pitfalls
Stop only to wish upon my stars..for your heavens to be this tall
While my night breaks and dawns a day of flickering dim bulbs
A sun just warm enough to touch..with a lingering slit pulse.
Casting my life-lined kite into a pallete knifed wind brawl
I’ll face whatever way.. the wind floats this paper thin soul
Then brush stroke through the cascade of breaking windows
To make my time a widow,finally this air’s running out of stock.
I don’t want to quit though,I just can’t paint what God forgot.

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LowerTown's Finest