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| Ora Tamir at www.orasart.com |
It’s the shape of my eyes,
my body and soul, the color of my mind... I belong to music, and these lyrics
are mine.
The beat is fast, pounding
thrusts from within her chest.
The music it brings to her
ears are of that melodic guitar-the unique guitar... with strings made of
veins. It plays so loudly, her eardrums become numb to the sound of the beat. Don’t
strum too hard, cuz ink will bleed, and when the ink bleeds, her soul excretes
and stories of a young gremlin are told.
A girl so keen, she made
the rhythms bleed.
Stories of a dark child,
the daughter of jazz, rock and hip hop
Stories of how she made
their hearts stop, their mouths drop.
Stories round the tick
tock she stops the clocks and thoughts pop
Her cryptic mind is the
simplest hard knock!
Cliché? I think not, for
this delivery is TOO hot.
Should you question
someone’s passion? I think not.
Woke up feeling fierce
today, but this fire is everyday,
So sit back and listen to
the truth she say.
Forget the childhood
memories, dark mornings and hate tales.
The liberation? Her verbal
exhale.
And the chill in her bones
isn’t the effect of those cold lonely nights,
Her fear of the dark is cured by no light.
Her fear is beyond the pain and anguish found in the base of her mind, the
place making her eloquence a one of a kind.
Her fear of the dark isn’t how pitch black it gets, but not knowing
the precise location of that vein. Cuz if the vein don’t bleed, then her soul won’t excrete, and if
her soul don’t excrete then you've found her defeat.
But NOBODY is stopping P,
so if you're gonna cut those lights off, first you've got to cut me!
Because it’s
not just the shape of my eyes, my body and soul, the color of my life you see, I
belong to music, and these lyrics are MINE!
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