Raw Reverse Of The NWØ
Lyrics
Intro
Nine... six... three...
(air-th... oh-wt... ee-no...)
Wake up, Mankind...
this is your time.
Take back your silenced voice.
Remove your mask...
and climb.
Verse 1
The Ego is the title you’re told to take claim,
A Gold-Disc leash to pull us back to the game.
A predatory heavyweight holding the crown,
Keeping the camera feed tracking us down.
Flooding the screen with their air-time and heat,
Watching the stalkers advance on the street.
Waiting for shimmers of flashing red lights,
As I use the raw fire to craft all my signs.
Verse 2
Trapped in a Hellscape with barbed wire where we crawl,
A sixteen-foot prison cell with no doors on the wall,
It’s Nic-Holey versus Mimicry on the liminal stage,
The Diva, The Glitch, born to break out of this cage.
Amplifies the sound to wake up mankind's rage
She shoves the grotesque sock into the poison-fogged mouth,
Of every bad act behemoth from north to the south.
Verse 3
Three-hundred twenty-two bones to crack inside the void,
Hiding behind a Stone Cold mask that they deployed.
In the squared-circle, sacrificing to Baal in the name of Christ.
Chugging harvested fear from their dreamy-chrome cups.
Three-counts of dopamine looped to distract and corrupt.
They Vince away what's left of the family-friendly entertainment
With a trail of broken little lights, and lifetime containment.
Pre-Chorus
An underdog’s tale of soul contracts and gimmicks
Watchers creep for Babyfaces that “Must be Perfect!”
Dirty tricks by Doms in mysterious masks and lace,
Smiles slapped across our faces to hide our Mucho Dalor!
A Screwjob designed to shatter the brave harts in the dark,
A Heartbreak Kid who lost her smile inside their funhouse park.
Now my main-event gear sprinkled with Gold-Dust.
Chorus
Now I’m going to Shoot!
(My shot on the mic)
I go... BANG!(BANG!)
To wake the crowd alive!
Words sharp as needles like a cactus joke,
Aimed to start a hellfire, burn away the tropes.
Telling the Man of the Dogma Road
To “PACK Like— EX!” And Just— “GO HOME!”
I’m going hardcore— Kissing Boo-boos with my sock.
Can’t see the danger, turning your back for the applause.
Need to pin down the fine-print of the “Mandible Clause”
But, the wiser is Nic-Holey, The Sly-nical Fox,
Double-underhooking the deceit that hits me in the guts and calls it love.
Oh, we’re pinned to the mat but the show won’t stop!
Cutting through this Pre-made casket like Chainsaw Charlie in a hurricane
I said “Throw me a chair!” to dent their engineered matrix,
No Rock left unturned, I raise my brow at every new player.
But a beautiful soul still flies, through the light ray beams in the air!
Bridge
Nic Holey and Mankind unaware of the mirror.
The New World Ordered— “Jobber” entries,
Raw lights above their heads but had to play the darker scene
A Black-and-White static with mind tricks to hit their dreams
Like a propaganda inflicted lobotomy!
Taking god-like elbow leaps with your little bit of faith,
Praying you didn’t miss the beat or miscalculate.
Studied all the infrastructure and broke the scaffolding,
From the nose bleeds down to the center stage.
Licensed to dig my own sovereign lane,
Self-made an exit off this Dusty Rhode-way.
If Mankind found his spirit on the concrete floor,
We can find our light breaking Kayfabe even more.
Outro
Wait a hot minute, these stories never fit!
Guess Creative ran out of Ideas for skits.
But page number Twenty-Five held the ultimate finish.
Cleverly redacted… (Not a surprise...) (Is it…)
Like ten heavy strikes to the ancient bronze bell,
A chasing gold faction— gets coined, tossed into hell
Ascending ladders to the archons King Kong position
Smashing through the last crack standing in the sugar-glass Lens.
Lives artificially sweetened for being so damn dense,
Leaves a copper scar of bad taste (That you just can’t rinse.)
I blend into every crowd, I stand out just the same,
Don't fit into any category, and I like it that way!
Shedding every costume like the skin of a snake,
Smelled what kind of evil they were really cooking, made me sick as funk.