But The Dirt Remains
coruscate
It is January 30th and Pella recording will be replaced very soon with a cleaner recording on this same page.
Raw and unedited. Written by a customized chat GPT I made for myself with my personal information in it. BPM is approximate.
I will edit and try to find a BPM later, but I tried to keep walking while I was rapping to keep it steady. It’s like “sketching” but for rapping for me.
Sweepin’ floors, in a casino’s glow,
World’s asleep, but my thoughts, they flow,
Ponderin’ on news, where peace seems faux,
Israel, Palestine, an endless woe.
22,000 lives, a number too real,
War’s appetite, it just can’t heal,
In this quiet night, the world’s ordeal,
Law’s breach, it’s too surreal.
Colorado’s court, invaded by a Mark,
Echoes of chaos, in the world’s dark,
Trump’s influence, leaves a threat so stark
But here, it’s just me and the quiet arc.
The world, a place of danger, a constant spin,
Yet, amid this, dirt’s the original sin,
People, their actions, wearing thin,
Dirt remains, under the skin.
—++
Epstein’s list, unveiled to the world,
Names etched in scandal, truths unfurled,
Among them, Trump, with little girls
Man that’s sick i just hurled
Florida’s turmoil, threats so vile,
A man with hate, walked that mile,
Targeting kids, with no denial,
In this world, innocence on trial.
Harvard’s leader, a path now dim,
Racial storms, the future grim,
Her firing, reasons at the brim,
Race war nah but, prospects are slim.
Ukraine’s battles, gaining ground each day,
Against Russian stall, in this fierce fray,
Yet here I stand, in the dim hallway,
With my broom and bin, in the early gray.
Chaos spins, the world astray,
But in these halls, I silently sway,
Cleaning up the remnants of decay,
In this quiet, I find my own way.
In the silence of the hall, echoes of the world,
Wars and turmoil, flags unfurled,
Yet in my quiet realm, the truth’s swirled,
But the dirt remains, in this lonely world.
Sweeping through the night, thoughts uncurled,
Reflecting on life, as my broom twirled,
Amidst chaos outside, my role’s pearled,
But the dirt remains, reality hurled.
Raw and unedited. Written by a customized chat GPT I made for myself with my personal information in it. BPM is approximate.
I will edit and try to find a BPM later, but I tried to keep walking while I was rapping to keep it steady. It’s like “sketching” but for rapping for me.
Sweepin’ floors, in a casino’s glow,
World’s asleep, but my thoughts, they flow,
Ponderin’ on news, where peace seems faux,
Israel, Palestine, an endless woe.
22,000 lives, a number too real,
War’s appetite, it just can’t heal,
In this quiet night, the world’s ordeal,
Law’s breach, it’s too surreal.
Colorado’s court, invaded by a Mark,
Echoes of chaos, in the world’s dark,
Trump’s influence, leaves a threat so stark
But here, it’s just me and the quiet arc.
The world, a place of danger, a constant spin,
Yet, amid this, dirt’s the original sin,
People, their actions, wearing thin,
Dirt remains, under the skin.
—++
Epstein’s list, unveiled to the world,
Names etched in scandal, truths unfurled,
Among them, Trump, with little girls
Man that’s sick i just hurled
Florida’s turmoil, threats so vile,
A man with hate, walked that mile,
Targeting kids, with no denial,
In this world, innocence on trial.
Harvard’s leader, a path now dim,
Racial storms, the future grim,
Her firing, reasons at the brim,
Race war nah but, prospects are slim.
Ukraine’s battles, gaining ground each day,
Against Russian stall, in this fierce fray,
Yet here I stand, in the dim hallway,
With my broom and bin, in the early gray.
Chaos spins, the world astray,
But in these halls, I silently sway,
Cleaning up the remnants of decay,
In this quiet, I find my own way.
In the silence of the hall, echoes of the world,
Wars and turmoil, flags unfurled,
Yet in my quiet realm, the truth’s swirled,
But the dirt remains, in this lonely world.
Sweeping through the night, thoughts uncurled,
Reflecting on life, as my broom twirled,
Amidst chaos outside, my role’s pearled,
But the dirt remains, reality hurled.