[chorus] you are me as sure as i am you you're rocking with van ark and tony moon double heelix brings those sacred sounds designed just like enzymes the way we break it down [verses] step into my meditation chamber, sensory deprivation tank where you can see separation's nature. made for suppressin our essence into slave work. hence my transcript is like an edgar cayce paper translating the message from the vapor with tales of esoteric ways. words ressonate for acres hope you antenna's receptive to the wave hertz. only way for the dead to shed the weighted anchor. so everything that i'm spittin is heavily heavenly melody driven. elevate with every rhythm. mandalas on turntables steadily spinnin while emittin the energy in 'em. the anti-venom. so my sound's as sacred as ancient geometric shapes in our dna is. pagan masons raped each of the nations' natives for their spiritual information, laced it with lies, the propaganda, and half truths under the guise of "god" they're plannin to snatch you. i patched through to the astral plane again; it's a crap shoot never know when my brain attains supernatural cadence to rap to. the aim is to have you engaged to the fact you can change this shit back dude. easier stated than it is to attain it. why you think i stay blazed wit a sick spliff of the haze kid? frustration sits in like picketting racists when i'm faced wit persuading their ignorant ways kid. and that's the basics of the existential collapse that i'm facin relationships get severed whenever the truth it is exposed. true, the blue pill is so soothin but let go. though, yo, i think i might have od'ed on the red one. lose lose situation, either way i'm dead, son. why is it the more i engage the oneness the more i feel isolated from this world of lifelessness and numbness? its a conundrum son, and i can't take the unrest stirring up inside without my good haze and rum fifth. if we're the same, then why i feel so different? wish my intuition was a little more explicit with the message that it's sending. shit but maybe i'm not listenin. its hard to make sense of all the visions and the whisperin. the way the pyramids align the earth's seven chakras is the way my mind designs these words for the populous. so if you thirst for the knowledge then quench it with the verses i drop in this double heelix doctrine

i handle the rhythm like rodin handles his hammer and chisel this is what happens when fusion clash with the fission. its physics-defying and i'm every mystic's and scientist's most sought after specimen, so i'm hidin in a lion's den away from impediments meant to end my cllimb to zen or nirvana, whatever you wanna call her. i admit the coronas with the marijuana hardly compliments my intuition's wishes kid, but shit, it's hard to fight the itch i get every second that their lies persist and sparking dims columbia's torches that they blind us wit. the flow is kinda sick like the fact atmospheric ions is manipulated by haarp tesla project devices is. i close my eyes and drift away into the darkness spittin on some fuckin non-fictional celestine prophet shit. truth's a cold road, holmes. get your moccasins. and listen 'cause ton's poems are gonna lift your consciousness. they fit beats like pleiades fits to martian monuments andromedan's will find this script under the face's obelisk. ain't it obvious? the competition can't accomplish this wordplay, flow, content, or even timeliness. no. the flow is providence so i keep mobbing it with ark, oz, and jah-i-witness. open your mind a bit.

in the beginning was the word and the word is sound in other words, the schumann resonance keeps earth this round. the entire universe is drowned in different frequencies. they push the particles into shape right where they need to be or gotta be, by the path of least resistance philosophy. and the shapes that they take? they make sacred geometry. from celestially to sub-atomicly, the harmonies of those sounds give us the shells that we embody. see? the fact that we can't hear 'em aurally hardly means that they don't exist in the mist or aren't a part of me. for music as an art it means the purest of the artistries is what i'm blessed to do, so i choose it to keep our chakras clean. its the rhythm inside that's got you seein what you see and believe (can you feel it?) its the rhythm inside. vibration paints reality. (vibrate higher) i feel they're vibrations -brations -brations -brations -brations -brations (i'm seeing auras now) i feel they're vibrations -brations -brations -brations -brations -brations (from within my marijuana cloud) i feel they're vibrations -brations -brations -brations -brations -brations (music is all around) i feel they're vibrations -brations -brations -brations -brations -brations (you call it god, i call it sound) i'm the mysticism of sounds manifest. in the flesh with every breath. there's nowhere rhythm isn't found in excess. from heartbeats, to electrical signals from the body to the brain, and planets around stars revolving they all keep meticulous time see. so i sleep and wake up to my circadian vibe b. to find beats and rhyme deep to create an uprising rarely taking it lightly, maybe 'cause i've seen how cointelpro did lennon and their agents could find me and blaze me if i keep sharing crazy shit i've seen with eyes keen, despite bein too baked for the visine. the evil demons see that it's much more than a rhyme scheme.

i smoke then i float high high high high high don't know where i go, but bye bye bye bye bye i flow to expose lies lies lies lies lies so all of our souls can rise rise rise rise rise project blue beam holographics got me seeing aliens wit automatics clappin while fascists practice the darkest magics on the masses. hoarding knowledge from the past, they're soul assassins. cremation of care paints bohemian grove with autumn ashes. so this flow is crafted to expose occultists' tactics. with a phonetic as magnetic as a polar axis. go and ask your local pastor why jesus, muhammed, krishna, and horus have the same life story, and watch him scatter. the global elite don't want us to know that thought is matter and we can manifest beautiful things when the conscious gathers. they tried to hide vibrational planes and akashic data. but i transcended their tamperin and saw the aura patterns. i know the information's implications are sort of staggerin but you know that we were born for more than this. its all apparent.

agents raided my place and discovered schematics related to blood electrification in my basement. i was high as african nation inflation when i sensed their angst and fled straight fer my spaceship. cause cases where i stay is laced wit information exposing alpha draconian enslavement, and masons, sound systems that found rhythms ancient and sacred, wavelengths meant to aid in transcendin this plane kid. i hopped in the cockpit, got the proper wattage to operate the inertia blocker locked in. i'm still a novice pilot, i just got this from a donor who wants to keep his identity private. the all-seein-eye's sendin their spies in like if i'm high, they might catch my attention divided and energy slight, and i sensed 'em in time and ascend to the sky in the wink of an eyelid. feelin boss in my saucer, so i twist up my spliff wonderin why pigs ran into my crib like this. i let the doobie burn slow, cruisin the worm hole... thinkin there musta been a snitch, but who it the turncoat? worse, though, the agents? who do that work fo'? can't be government...they hacked the code in that verse yo and found the coordinates to my place on this earth's globe. they must be ad hoc, black ops, lurkin to murk ton' workin for the zeta reticulans...its sickenin how greys' genetics have been infected by the reptilians and now they send their lackeys to catch me, i'm in the thick of it. it musta been the music, too many people were listenin. i broke down tuskeegee's experimentin wit syphillis, rex-84 and FEMA camps they wanna stick us in, deliberately deceptive images, RFID chippin imminence, the venus project and it's significance. the words stirred up too many political dissodents, and the elite can't stand to see anti-indifference. but bygone is bygone, and i'm on to my next move. zion's relying on my finding some refuge. eyes glassy as a test tube i decide to try this guy i'm told in a tight spot to jet to. you see, the revolution depends on it and confiscation of my tapes and crates could put an end to it. my craft re-enters our dimension and... i'm dispensed within an instant into an arctic winter wind to meet this gentlemen. all i know is he's an indigionous inuit, spiritually in tune, and similar in sentiment. i felt his presence from within the ship, peeped a discrete ice cave to leave the whip in it. the blizzard is a perfect cover...i move to the mouth of the cave, i see smoke and through the snow shroud there's a blazing flame. i wish i coulda packed for the weather, even a sweater. but fuck it, it's presently or it's never. can't sleep and can't let up. i'm on a mission like it's V for Vendetta and this guy, he could be the key to forever. eager as ever i approach, and by the fire there's an igloo. and just then the snow stopped and the fire did too. and eerie calm fell on the area, and eerier, the sky was ecru. i yelled out for the guy to step through. it was quiet as deaf school...then i heard a whisper say, "state your name a purpose and step into the entry way" i said "i'm Tony Moon and i'm wit the revolution... and that there was a problem that could use some retribution. see, spiritual music is what i spit to populous. my project was part of the 2012 shift of consciousness. the greys have taken off with it...the deadlines approachin... and i just need a place to get my head right and focus... a mutual scrupulous friend said i should go get an eskimo who lives here if ever i'm hopeless. i hope you can help yo." i stepped through the threshold into some sess smoke. i heard him say "my name is echo" and there he was in meditation...he said this day was destined divination, fated to happen, and that it should be celebrated. he said he know my intentions before they were ever stated, that i was in danger, and was blessed to make it. cause the shapeshiftin...reptiles know where your spaceship is and wouldn't hesitate to make this trip. so he said he has to make this quick, passed the haze he lit and asked me if i'm ready to save this shit. i nodded and he paused. he had a pestil and a mortar in his palm... said taste the paste and the problem would be solved. i swallow it and fall into a trance, glancin at mandalas on the wall then in my mind i heard a call. it said "the past isn't permanent. dash through the firmament." then, remotely, i saw the lab where they burnt my shit. then i saw my past self with hash in a burning spliff as the agents were planning to snatch up my verbiage. i grabbed my attention, i told me to dash and then board the ship. i guess thats how i knew that the fascists were lurkin 'n the time loop was making sense. my mind could reshape events if i could just take the trip to myself in '86. or circa '09...wit Tony murkin dope rhymes and prevent writin the code in that verses 4th line... as i travel back though, visions of a craft hold-in lizards in the hatch, show they're fixed on where i'm at so time is of the essence. breathless, i inhale. gotta focus, can't stress the flesh ingesters with scales. then finally i see myself, high and writing right at the time i'm penning the line that smites me. i urge myself against it, like "this shit'll get you pinched" and sent my intuition vivid descriptions of the mission. told him to "spit it and make sure that they listen cause this shit is dependin on us to fix it", and he gets it. now my high is coming down. nobody is around. i am on the ground lying in the tundra now. next to my ship almost to woozy to stand so now i guess it's revolution as planned. the Past Moon understands our stanzas are scrutinized by a ruthless clan but needed for the evolution of man. he can't reveal his secret hiding place to keep the freedom fighters safe they gotta find a new rendezvous if they can like maybe that peruvian camp... but fuck it whatever they did is done, it's back to the future at hand. i evaded the raid and my location remains secret, and i can get away from this place matter displaced...re-penetration of space..and blaze on the way. reflecting on the implications of the day with my haze. not far and i'm back at my haven and base and everything in my basement is safe. damn i wish i had another taste of that paste to take me away and warn y'all about this alien race... but now we're approaching the awakening's date i can't afford to make a mistake. these are the greatest of stakes. time to say goodbye to the day of the slaves... 'til next time unless they tap my radio waves...

the prison industrial complex is just a new auschwitz if you ask me, and it fucks up my conscious so catch moon puffin a long spliff thinking the world ain't change much since the beast got it's clutches upon it for instance post-9/11's post-reconstruction - we still fuckin wit lynchins - up in our districts and minstrels are still integral to the way the media can fuck up an image and muslim americans grouped in as terrorists is just a new red scare like "boo, where's your period? phew shit, girl, there it is" and all of their lies are thinly disguised due to their arogance hidden in plain site, cause them two towers that was hit by them planes's like hitler setting his reichstag building aflame, trying to blame poland, aiding his campaign to invade. why are we tricked by the same lies? its deja vu let's rewind and review deja vu, haven't i seen you in a past life? cause it seems to me everything seems to be recycling and repeating from a past life where the blunt smoke hangs in the air i see the face of a hung slave in despair - blood smeared in his tears told my heart to be as fearless as his then i realized that the breath i'm breathin is his the weed in the spliff takes me back to egypt with glyphs i must've been a scribe - i see papyrus and a reed where i sit it explains why i'm a visual learner and why i lean to the pen - not the burner i journey through the firmament a little bit further - see another past life must've been a feudal serf, viewing earth through sad eyes that's why i'm anti-establishment and chastise injustices like "fuck the pigs" - they itch to take a black life this weed is pungent and wet, i feel it in my lungs with each breath saw myself as a young monk in tibet self immolatin - hatred's under protest and just then the weed smoke stunk of my flesh each life ends abruptly with death i guess i'll catch you in the next one son, because i'm done with the sess each life ends abruptly with death i guess i'll catch you in the next one son, because i'm done with the sess its deja vu let's rewind and review deja vu, haven't i seen you in a past life? cause it seems to me everything seems to be recycling and repeating from a past life we a scarred nation upon reincarnation, know spirits is swimming through us all fuck the matrix and disregard hatred as we spiritually evolve we a scarred nation upon reincarnation, know spirits is swimming through us all fuck the matrix and disregard hatred as we spiritually evolve its deja vu let's rewind and review deja vu, haven't i seen you in a past life? cause it seems to me everything seems to be recycling and repeating from a past life