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lirik lagu ronin, pt. 2: centipede – charlie yama

[intro]
two tracks on snow
two demons on the roam
death row crowing, composing and low blowing
his death cell blues
two truths he clings to
blues and roots
six months on the run
form the hounds, burnt lungs
death knell guarded
from being unsung and pardoning
the grim outcasts
abandoned and floating
like lost rodents
[verse 1]
smoke spires transcend to heaven’s end
signal the two wrecked heart and hand
apart from white breath and black coals
left guessing the quietness
of a hollowed out soul
mercenaries turn the dirt
searching prey to quench their thirst
burnt sap and tracks haphazardly
covered by snowy tapestry
thieves on the hunt for souls
grand larceny
the shadows of wolves
grow massive on the snow
glowing dawn, size lying
ten times larger than their lives
they surround the camp
stamp out the dying fire
thrust out and cut down
a prize for hungry eyes
roped up, tied up tongue
at the base of a trunk, a lone monk
inquest the missionary
he guides the mercenaries
points west and places his bets
the rest had better scatter
to counter the cloak and daggers
and trapping the last attacker
a ronin with grass sandals
gourd and sword
a flash of steel
a swift repeal
heels feeling frozen hills
a moment, the lone priest
steals clear, swept blind and
the vandal leaves his scene
[chorus]
what i need a master for?
for a sk!ll? for a sword?
that’s that venom voice
ain’t nothing but white noise
ain’t even a tight choice
i really gotta explain
what they’re asking for?
got a sk!ll
got a sword
so what i need a master for?

[verse 2]
the vagrants they thieve the night
awake under blinded skies
lying wise and undignified
warm smolders and cold shoulders
the dimness of glowing embers
“remember the rigidness
when defending the wicked press
and why we’re in this mess
confessing them blatant lies
adjacent to playing complacent
’til the mob arrives.”
the ronin throws his low*blowing woes
but the monk got his mind wound up in souls:
“there’s a point in venom*mindedness
when bitterness falls to one side of this
and the taste of poison grows strangely broken
unfocused, it opens more aromas
a warmth of closeness and sweet kindliness.”
but the vagrant’s steady in his vacant credit
“i said it the day i left it when i put it to bed
man’s only strong as survival’s kept him
revived by pressures set him
relying on life sentence
or death your only weapon
protecting yourself precious
forget it but for your profit.”
still the monk persists
resists with urgent sk!ll:
“perhaps your way’s efficient
effective and well sufficient
but hearts will bleed at love’s omission
one’s only so strong as the strength of his devotion
compulsion to block repulsion
compulsion to help the helpless
til restless we finally face this:
that placed in danger’s way
we’ll suffer our weight in pain.”
the vagrant shakes his head and lays
his eyes on torn grass and sighs with scorn glass:
“ain’t the burden of hurting people
played like vermins on broken needles?
ain’t they deserving of certain suffering
to lay my fate in chains
dressed plain in fitted sermons?
oughta know tenfold
the vengeance of whom they purchased
what they done to you and me
they won’t do it to no one else
that, i’ll guarantee with my only soul.”
the vagrants they thieve the night
awake under blinded skies
lying wise and undignified
[chorus]
what i need a master for?
for a sk!ll? for a sword?
that’s that venom voice
ain’t nothing but white noise
ain’t even a tight choice
i really gotta explain
what they’re asking for?
got a sk!ll
got a sword
so what i need a master for?

[verse 3]
a streak of fire it splits the night
blinded sights vibrate the twilight
a centipede retreats into a hollow tree
its carapace shines by the moon’s design
the monk grabs the ronin
rolls them down the ground and
with urgency cries:
“gotta flee here in dark disguise
they ain’t got a line of sight
by the time they find us
we’ll be dead by fire
gotta book it to that line of trees.”
but the ronin jerks forth
composes his worn sword:
“there’s no more of this.”
snow pours forth
in the silent clearing
besett by those outsiders
movements fettered by the prowling
as weathered steel strikes
white flashes peeled back
behind moonlight reeled back
swift blades sing, kneeled back
as knees break his silent back
down again
into a ditch split in stitches
sees movement by the trees
bruised truant in the weeds
heeds the cold rolling sky and hills
blood flowing fluid in his ears
thump thumping like a beat
breaks free from gravity
grip the iron from his feet
metal matches metal
plunges somewhere warm and soft
another flash of steel
another against his heel
hands start feeling cold
leaning hard on soiled steel
like a deer, his final meal
looks up and sees
that the monk is dead
snow spread red
like a final thread of life
melting ice beside his heavy head

[chorus]
what i need a master for?
for a sk!ll? for a sword?
that’s that venom voice
ain’t nothing but white noise
ain’t even a tight choice
i really gotta explain
what they’re asking for?
got a sk!ll
got a sword
so what i need a master for?

[verse 4]
splattered red, the emblem resembling
three stacked diamonds
defending with proud stance
he’s standing on bought land
the priest*k!ller branding
his blade aimed at the vagrant’s brain
“your brother’s no more
the way you did my own
ain’t slaying you though
gotta know your pain is thorough
you know how vengeance plays
you sang for my ending everyday.”
the ronin he plants his bone
in the stone and
his chrome is thrown
feet stolen and broken
his blade made plain
in moonlight and splitting pain
his vision it breaks and gains
he’s swimming in darker days
his last sensation
fell to last temptation
redemption is out of reach
he speaks to preach
but sleep is all he needs
a centipede speeds
across the bleeding chrome
scuttles and trails silent
behind the mercenaries
carrying two bodies
the ronin and missionary
the shape of two wrecked heart and hand

- charlie yama

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