home features   

 Lyrics Archive in conjunction with

britishhiphop.co.uk :: The UK Hip Hop Database and History 

Title: City Of Industry
Artist:
Jehst
Label: Low Life
Year: 2001
Release: The High Plains Drifter
Last Modified: 27th August 2002
Transcribed by: Adept
Contact: adept_bx@hotmail.com
Artist Discography


"I rock for the few chosen
Who got they third minds open"
Yeah, Yeah..
"I rock for the few chosen
Who got they third minds open"
Airborne, my force shrouded by cloudform
The line ravaged in the wake of this groundwar
The quintessential outlaw
Eye of the storm: my tears fall in the torrential downpour:
The flood. Your deathwish written in blood
I came in from the cold, clothes drippin' with mud
Grippin' the club. Primitive, a stig in the dump
Swingin' a punch. The bad seed, pick of the bunch
I drink black rain. Take another swig and I'm drunk,
Taste venom on the tip of my tongue; my lips cold.
Spittin' out toxins I couldnt dissolve, or with-hold
I never sold my soul for fools gold.
So I'm still free,
But too numb to feel pity. Some broke down
Now the steel-city’s a ghost town
Snowflakes cover the ground in white carpets
Seasons of espionage as time passes. The lion-hearted
Survival of the hardest artist
My open arms embrace darkness,
Still craving carnage and infamy.
But even parasites starve on this carcass of industry
"In a b-boy stance, I'm in the smog, all alone..."
You can see me as cynical, trapped in my own gothic vision.
Encapsulating chaos in this composition
Calculated, like the lies of a politition
Gripping the slipshot, I size up the opposition
I drop a match in the clouds and watch the flames rise
Fire-water falling from these grey skies,
To painted trainlines
Chrome over redbrick, reflective:
Like a gemstone in a sesspit
Jehst gives belief to a skeptic
The truth neglected like open wounds that turn septic,
Infected by the forked toungue of a liar
Now my thoughts are the color of fire
And my nights spend one in the kaya
Uninspired by the freak-show, I see ghosts dance in the trail of my weedsmoke
My words are folklore... that survived the cold war:
New World Order, and so forth...
---I go north, ankle deep in snowfall,
leaping over dry stonewalls with a hold-all
Steam clouds rise from my firey breath
It's the last twilight before the silence of death...(death)(death)



back  up

© britishhiphop.co.uk / ukhh.com 1999 - 2001