(P:)
hypnotic, despotic, a type tipping a tonic
demonic, chronic, astonish the ones ripping the sonic- I'm on it
not ironic, I just flaunt it and pawn it
using the same correspondents that I can't trust to be honest, but honest
I can't think a way to take it or make it
more connotative or weighted without degrading the gracious
if I could- only discover other loves I uncover
when I reach out to my brothers and take a blanket and smother, then I would
have found home that I could crash and dispatch at
let the schemes hatch at and silently detract at
hypocrite with fast facts, dribbling my abstract
hoping someday, I'll have the fame to cripple NASDAQ
ignorant- I'm past that, oblivion's a fast track
a trip to tee you off before you're asking where the trap's at
that's that, ratified but nullified the same
let's get this whole crowd to scream my name

never mind it, I'll rewind it and edit
dubbing a voice a hundred times until it chimes like you said it
and when you see me on a Vibe, the next time you'll regret it
especially on MTV -celebrity is cemented, get it?
destroying my credit, so you can watch me regret it
I have a message to proclaim, shame not to embed it
so, if you see me in an ad, where I'm smiling demented
then you can shred it without even contemplating a second
the day that I abandon my convictions, I'm dead
you'll find me sprawled on a bed with two shells in my head
but it's not like the first shot missed
his writing finger pulled the trigger and was super pissed

(Chorus:)
a chorus of angels
draped in plumes
a chorus of angels
devastation croons
a chorus of angels
sound incurs violence
a chorus of angels
and life is silenced

(H:)
ain't fucking who you expected- I'm Mr. Calm and Collected
I ate a bag of Cialis and yo, I'm still not erected
like 'what the fuck?!' I'm such a man with this mic in my hand
I spit as slow as possible but you still don't understand
don't comprehend it, I'm incomprehensible
I spit a bunch of bull until your little tummies is full
but it's cool- simple 'cause it's real to me
but you don't see the real me, all you see is fantasy
so brace for impact when I'm spitting 'cause I'm known to wreck souls
just like Psenick wraps his Taurus around telephone poles
I'm thinking 'slow down', drinking in the back of his Ford
I showed up at the station, blew zeros across the board
squealing tires, steel and wire- the explosion was stunning
no holy man, but I'm like 'damn, could've sworn I was running into a-'

(Chorus)

(P:)
Reunited and it feels like hell
on top of that, you chew the fat with all the crap you dispel
(H:)
you think this makes you cool, you think your rhymes is tight?
well then, why don't you ask your girl where she was at last night?
(P:)
what you mean by my girl? know I'm a bachelor, baby
(H:)
I'm talking 'bout your grandma, she's got moves for an old lady
(P:)
oh, maybe, call me crazy, tell your ex to stop texting
screaming 'Psenick' while you're sexing's got to have you depressed and-
(H:)
aw, look at you coming at me, I bet you think you're the shit
you're such pussy, can't believe you haven't yet grown a clit
(P:)
that's irrelevant, you're telling it like ass connoisseur
and if you could, men's rest stations would be stops on our world tour
(H:)
what sucks the most is when you write for JUMPINFUCK, it reflects me
(P:)
but we're the same, we share a brain
(in unison:)
yes, suicide is sexy

(Chorus)


Lyrics submitted by dirtySeal

Chorus of Angels song meanings
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