Million Miles High (prod. by Kno)

Hook 

Sitting on my rooftop 
I'm a million miles high 
I hear strange voices calling 
I hear strange people crying 

First Verse [Sheisty] 

All this pain in my brain is so intense, 
its got me sitting in the rain for a rinse. 
every strain against my frame so immense 
I'm convinced that I ain't been the same ever since. 
So in a sense my innocence is in a stint, 
the cold breeze from the vent feel like wintermint. 
Cold so I just throw on the winter mitts, 
but when the wind emits it blows colder the winter gets. 
It howls and I talking about the moving castle, 
the owl when the moon is vast it maneuvers past you. 
Yeah as far as Id and the Superego 
I'm something like a kid with a super ego. 
You'll never find me in a suit like a superhero, 
im on the stoop or in the coupe, [bad word]  Super Negro. 
Some niggas burn with envy I call 'em Sherman Hemsley, 
they learn that I'm a Sherman tank with the Germans in me. 
And there's something like a passion that burns within me, 
 [bad word] no I ain't fasting there's a worm within me. 
Symbolic or otherwise my lymphs are symphonic, 
The lullabies for nymphs with colored eyes. 
See this is Panavision for the land a prism, 
for every man with mannerisms that could land in prison. 
If the writings on the wall they call it vandalism, 
but if the writings on a scroll they call it man's religion. 
I think this pain in my brain is an anneurism, 
the [bad word] condition of a man damned to man a mission. Man listen! 

Hook 

Second Verse [Deacon] 

I'm found in a place void of sound 
bound to my mission, I'ma destroy ground 
I'm annoyed, on path to display wrath 
and I'm fired by the fuel that the dismay adds 
I see, blue seas, brown desserts 
grey mountains, clown efforts 
and bright lights from metropolis nights 
but when I land it'll all be a necropolis site 
yeah, tell God to go head and pull the choir out 
ain't enough ocean on earth to put the fire out 
am I savior? put you out your misery 
or will I miss and let you re-write your history 
cue the symphony, the timpanis the [bad word] rolls 
there's no ending me, no matter what your gun holds 
if up to me you'll never live to see the sun cold 
I plan to spare not even one soul, [bad word]