Best Shinoda Verse
spit drips from the jaw of the witless witness.
cryptic colloquialism shifts the misfits.
dark, all i do embark the shadows.
involved with my thought catalogue, analogue, rap catalogue.
keep my distance and fear resistance, hurt by persistance.
that twisted web that tangles lies,
strangles my, hope to waste and numbs the taste.
and i'm forced to face,
these hate-crimes, against the state of being,
feeling the weight-less-ness pressed between the ceiling.
reeling around room, riding a bubble of sound proof.
it's the frequency making you, shake with every boom.
involuntary muscle contraction,
ignoring and drinking musical gas fume euphoria.
the sound pounds to make the dead flush,
to have you a head rush, with red rhymes and sad stuff...