Illogic - Hollow Shell (Cash Clutch) lyrics

I'm stuck in an emotional
Valley with melancholy
Wandering this wilderness with Gilgamesh
Baring a basket of berries
Rotted to the pit's
Hobbling through stretches of sand dunes
Stand consumed by a walking stick
Surrounded by a desert of waste
Searching for some clear liquid to
Mirage the dirt taste
I'm too overwhelmed to control the helm
As the sun smiles battled in old time
I'm using my shadow as a sun dial
I don't hold the energy to run around
It was lost in those seven digit's
Where I scattered my baby pictures
In order to leave a small trace of face
And for predecessors to know that Illogic
Once held rank in this place
I await to be devoured by
The beast of the industry


Where the goddess of lust speaks
Sweet nothings tempting me
Where identity crisis is the norm
And where we only know ourselves on stage
But we forget after we perform
Where blood and smoke screens
Cloak the inner discontent
Where compensation for your due
Payments are overspent
Where image is everything and your
Thirst no longer matters
Where we can't stand our true
Selves so mirror images shatter
Where life is no longer a
Blessing but a curse and
Where Hip-Hop music is no longer fun but work
Where life becomes a dream
And reality doesn't exist
And surrealism is the poison that
You clutch in each fist

The stench of burning sentences
Reeks of lost life
Locked in this cage of clones by request
Clutching cash overshadows the love
Of clutching the mic
My mind and spirit elopes as I
Continue to stroke my flesh
I become a hollow shell from which
The ocean can be heard
But that sound is only an
Illusion of my depth
Is it by choice that I walk through
This life as a waste of words
Or is a rebirth in store for the
Piece of my soul that's left

The glass that sit's on this
Table is half empty
With a laugh I notice the pessimism within me
Lost looking for the love that
Once embraced my muse
Amused by the spectacle that
My reflection's become
No longer enthused by the culture
I held in my grasp
At one time I held the mic
My grip replaced it with cash
I recall my first encounter with
The realm of skill
Where the concern was keeping it
Ill before keeping it real
Where MC's would roll six hours just to bust
Where the crowd responds it payment
Getting cash was a plus
Where we concentrate on rhymes to
Make the fans contemplate
Where battles are dinner settings for
Your heroes to be ate
Where life long friends are made
And your crews are born
Where pens act as umbrellas to
Shield you from the storm
Where words are counsellors and
Writing is therapy
Where chopped loops and drum breaks are
The arms that carry me
Where we spit till our throat
Hurts and saliva droughts
Where you yearn to hear your verse sprout
From one of your fan's mouths
Where I want to return but damn I never left
I was lost in the page just
Immersed in my song concept

The stench of burning sentences
Reeks of lost life
Locked in this cage of clones by request
Clutching cash overshadows the love
Of clutching the mic
Your mind and spirit elopes as you
Continue to stroke your flesh
You become a hollow shell from which
The ocean can be heard
But that sound is only an
Illusion of your depth
Is it by choice that you walk through
This life as a waste of words
Or is a rebirth in store for the
Piece of your soul that's left