Little Death Lyrics - Tetsuo & Youth - Lupe Fiasco

Now bring it out 

Like a finger in the back of your mouth 

Cherubs and cerebellum, Tara at Sarah's wedding 

Sam marrying Sam 

Band pushed upon the finger of Sam's hairiest hand 

If that sickens you, you a bigot 

If it doesn't well you're wicked 

Such is life 

Odd as Egg McMuffins at night 

No answers, so let us watch these dancers 

Structure reformed gracefully being born 

On the pallet of dark greys, concaves and spirals 

Kaleidoscope into a Eiffel 

It ripples then it tidals 

Vacillates then it virals 

Babylon's in the Bibles and others 

And tell me of the spinning mothers 

And today's mathematics for beloved 

And beasts' bellies covered like the cummerbunds of butlers... 

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How was your day, can I make what you say 

What I wanna hear, cause I want you here 

The hell that we raised to the heavens do anything for 

La petite mort, la petite mort 

They keep the bottles just to make glass houses 

Then climb up to the second floors and throw rocks out it 

Then expect not a volley in reply 

Some place vulnerable like prolly in the eye 

What of the chicken? what is it missin', is it dry? 

Did it die in some inhumane conditions so it didn't go relaxed 

And attention from its demise pulled all of the flavour from the fat 

And made it flat and rather lifeless 

Well there's a place that has a stunning [?] 

And more mercifully murdered Pisces 

But barbaric are still the prices 

It's rather niceless, apricot in dices and fromage slices 

My son will call risotto rices 

If and when he's left to his own devices, well 

How is your memory? 

Is it returning like a lemon tree 

To bear bitter fruit of what you meant to me 

Or was it slippin' like permission am I trippin' like Phil 

I feel I'm grippin' but maybe the transition 

Still left out the life, also left out the will, grief 

Will cheese never touch your teeth 

Maybe like kosher beef 

Is it real, is it real, is it real 

Ha, hah! 

Photos 

How at the date can I make you my break 

Cause I want you dear, ooh, I want you dear 

The hell that we raised to the heavens make [?] for 

Our petite mort, our petite mort 

So glad you're back, but not glad at that you're [?] 

Where is the glamour in collapse? 

Where in the shatter of the facts shoves one back to a pattern of stab wounds 

Swoon ridden goons consumed and driven mad soon 

The attended years slowly fills with baboons 

That other monkey business 

Where killers go free cause a junkie's a funky witness 

Runny mascaras from the cunning mask wearers of death 

Bygone errors, sittin' like two oil derricks 

Separated by a sea of cooling num nums 

Reminiscing of an every day playing hum drum 

Where recognition went unnoticed 

And then solidified till it was stoic 

We should've been poets 

Somewhere between amateurs and grandmasters of iambic pentameter 

How are your chains, do they make you behave 

Keep you over here, by your overseer 

Fallen from grace down from heaven to memories [?] 

La petite mort, la petite mort