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Set You Free

from by Oddisee

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lyrics

We’re living in the age of the microchip, to think real life is like those flicks/ We used to watch where the doc was working for the villain to insert s*** into your fingertips/ The danger is, those flicks desensitized us to the ideas it could exist/ Well done Spielberg & Lucas a theory conspired/ I don’t know, in the pudding the proof is/ But who reads the labels of what they eat/ So the readers digest, just what they speak/ But who’s they, bigger than the monotheistic belief/ That the man is controlling the axes of e-vil/ & still all the masses believe, that a masked thief, makes all the madness & grief/ We endure, so we indulge ourselves in the idea that wealths the cure/ & further more, less ain’t more no more/ We assess success like herbivores/ More green, more esteem & clout to liberate us from that twenty four hourly bout/ Better known as the day to day struggle, no escape from to make one you got to hustle/ & that’s where the mistake comes, the tussle/ Between fiendn’ out for the dream or the puzzle/ That perplexed minds since the beginning of time/ Why are we here, do we really have free will/ Are we gods, god like or beast still/ Did the pharaohs even have it right/ In two thousand years, you’d think that we would learn/ Can’t take what you earn to the afterlife/ Place it in a urn, the body burns liberated from the ideology that to have we like/ More than life itself/ Man builds rockets to go to the moon but can’t lend hands to the needy in help/ It’s them type moves that forever ensure that war glooms/ Like a tomb where the battle was held to tell the tale how men turned heaven to hell/ oh well, oh well, you know me well/ A common story I came from the bottom to the well/ Not quite the top so exaggeration I’m trying to sell/ So since we’re building my problems I’m from the basement/ No, not my sound, my surroundings, astounding if you found how we dwell/ Streets are filled with complacent minimum wages/ But faking as if their making the maximum & it’s breaking their pockets cause uncle sam is just taxing them/ & their pockets frail/ Yet the streets are unpaved, still the road is rough/ Not for motors but their motives, exposed to black kettle & pot-holes, that just be closing up/ So hold that though, Imagine having an accent that would band you for asking, for a job/ You’d react & hold that torch/ & burn down oppurtunities door/ the politics of classism is infused with the poor/ That’s condusive for a movement or more, that’s a soon to be war/ Not sure we’re living in a paradise/ More like a resort unaware of plite/ we alright/

credits

from People Hear What They See, released June 5, 2012

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