Broken Silence by Brok’ N Sylance (transcript)

Broken Silence

Am no alcoholic
but know the first step is admitting it.

So yes
I am
Brok’N
Sylance,
and this voice is my evidence.

This stage is my residence.
These words are your beverage
and your minds are my leverage.
Because I’m trying to get inside
as if you were my mother
and I was Oedipus.

For there too,
is much irony.
behind this iron curtain.
Realizing that one must assume obligation,
before obliviously observing,
individuals deafly dance in dead air,
becoming vulnerable to no volume.

So I feel like I owe me.
I owe them,
I, A. E., I, O, You,
like vowels,
Giving life to sound.
I am that tree in the forest
falling.
Do you hear me?
Only if you stick around.

Only if you are listening.
Are you listening?
And decide not to run
because are only afraid
of the beast that is in you,
so can’t no cat get your tongue.

Coruscating cerebrum,
cerebellum of a preeminent posture.
Procreating with your medulla oblongata.
Tired of one-liners,
making me say “I got yah.”
Claiming this be harmony,
but never took us to an opera.

Why fondle sweet words,
when we can fabricate vanilla?
Impersonate on every instrumental
instead of reviving the roots of acappella?
Awake our antennas.
Write so hard till our handsengrave their own Indian Hennas.

Soak in adrenalin static
so even when he called me a dog,
I know I have a right to be dogmatic.

I had to question,
after they said
I was only to be seen
and questioned that seen
until I excreted Socratic.

Who?
What?
Where?
When?
Why?
Was my demo,

But they couldn’t accept it,
No,
just too democratic?

Cause if you happen to experience
a more elusive way of existing
than possibly this piece
is just too demographic.

Too many points
you’ll find
you cannot graph it.

But these bars be your examine
before you can practice
the law.

That it is not ok
to label amateurs
lyricist
just because they can dislocate their jaws
Slap syllables into saliva
for arrogant applause.

Cause call this the criteria
and alienate me an artist.

I converse, to confess
to conjure, to connect.
I am a walking catharsis,

Ruining the reputation
that to release
is rocket science.

But rather,
reexamining the repercussions,
of not resurrecting,
your silence.