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here lies an untapped shell
wondering when our good sense will prevail
it's a story that anyone who lives can tell
the last time music compelled them to move something
do something worthwhile to their well-being
feel the need to prove something
look deep in your memory banks
cause the past few years've been nothing but blanks
disposable art has a tragic counterpart
that it's tried to hide from the start of the matter
and what's sadder than sad
is how bad a job they've done in the spotlight
the moment that my eyes lose sight
and i slip into the darkness of the night
with my headphones on tight
many folks i would call my peers never reach my ears
send me a kite with no strings attached
only fate's wings attached
the song the sing is unmatched in conventional terms
and it reconfirms our arrival
better yet our ability to speak the words you can see vividly
viddy well little brother
Word Association's here to represent like no other

survey the eyes of a man
with no idea why he can understand the lay of the land
grounds of confusion
show the secret illusion they're using
cats play the role of Oz wizard
like Jim Morrison manifests king lizard
and it's an all or nothing proposition
hare-brained schemes to keep pole position
logical progression of the sequence
people get offended by the defense
if we have to play the role of showstoppers
then it's automatic to assume we're flow droppers
so watch the hat hit the ground
at the very same moment we've chosen to get down in surround sound
360 degrees
complex thoughts are presented with ease

the more things change and so on
becomes living proof of things to grow on
true-isms, minute made wisdom
simulcast megablast soundwave system
some cats mock the thought pattern
those same people all learn in the end
that once the game became us and them
they simply forgot we're all ordinary men
i remembered that from way back
knowledge that i picked up on the stray track
that's where i came across a pack
that attacks each time that the day turns black
24 hours in a day
and it's still funny how time slips away
so we make the clockwork moves
create words and don't disturb grooves


from .​.​.​less is no more, released January 1, 2000
written by Chief
produced by The Ill Mathematical


all rights reserved



Chief and TheDoomsdayDevice Austin, Texas

Chief and TheDoomsdayDevice
:: mc : dj : producer : artist ::

A wordsmith with the heart of a poet and the head of a broadcast journalist. A DJ who is not afraid to venture outside of the norm. A producer with a different vocabulary of influences, and no fear whatsoever about embracing them. An artist searching for the link between the palette and the pixel. ... more

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