Verse 1

Reanimating wildstyles, I smiles, from one side of my face to the other,
When I discover, the undercover brother above you,
I love and leave you, I please and tease you, then release you through passages unknown,
to postpone pointless pleasures, there’s a need to treasure this,
because it’s precious and some of them are jealous of our advancements, enhancements,
answering the critics with words, verbs nouns and dialects, is the hysterical, historical, metaphorical,
Master of managing the gains which we made from following procedures which you need to pay heed
to, believe the, dark days dawned on the dominions of the devastated,
through this we penetrated, exasperated,
yet we never waited for any competitor to be assuming the position of the editor,
Never letting the, appropriate pieces be released, it’s a sign of the beast, and at least its,
Recognisable, and advisable, for us to steer clear of those ideas, brought forth from the sincere
fears, of our peers, as the heat seers, here’s,
the anguish and the agony in which they’ll be dragging me,
in to the depths of the darkness,from where we start this,
as soon as we depart it seems some of them see it fit to question our longevity,
the mentality of the darkest pedigree deems it non – permissible,
the dismissible indecision upon which we seek to make an incision with the crafted precision of a physician,
Nothing is missing as we return to those essential elements of the wildstyle testaments

Chorus

The activator or reanimator, processor of data or data, yes from the minor to the major,
we will engrave the seal of our supremacy, over those who pretend to be, the friend of we, or maybe
even enemy, never letting the, abuser, confuse the, trials and tribulations that are facing us,
seeking to be replacing us, maybe erasing us or even chasing us,
up the river where we deliver the bigger figure, in order to overcome that outcast class,
Mass appeal is attainable, only for those remainable, engageable, never the fadeable,
The irreplaceable broadcasts of the wildstyle thoughts last longer than the so called ‘stronger’ so
prolong the, patterns of poetical presence, emanating from the source or the essence,
teaching the lessons like, those lies lie grounded, grated and dumbfounded, and if the word is bond,
we’ve bound it, surrounded ourselves with all kinds of shelves,
of breaks and artefacts in order to enshrine fine tracks,
but nowadays tracks lack that soul seeking sentiment that used to represent and stand as
testament intelligent, never the hesitant, only the hated, waited,
desecrated what was once sacred, now lies naked and open to the elements,
a matter of relevance to relations that keep testing the patience, but wait since,
some signs signify the sorrow, of thoughts that flow from a head that’s hollow,

maybe tomorrow...
maybe tomorrow..
Maybe tomorrow I can dispose of my woes and sorrow...

Chorus (to end)