introducing: the incarnate innovator, incinerate the insincere incredible injections directly into your inner ear interpolate and interlace incisions so intensive stay independent of the insufficiently inventive intervening with interrogations that are intense intone incandescent like magnesium incense interact with intellects and inscribe harder incorporate insights to incite intifada in and out of every kind of insane intrepidness international connects, native intelligence remain indelible at insurmountable rates in a bid to increase my insulation from these ingrates interrogate insecurities when i interview having them inquisitive like asking what's got into you? inhaling intoxicants might develop your infamy but incompetent rhymes'll just add insult to injury like Indiana visits i'll get rappers in a state intercept their inheritance like they died intestate in a flash i'll reveal a rhyme style so ingenious it infects yr bloodstream like cravings intravenous smack a beat hard enough to inflict concussion my intention is to spark an insurrection integrity intact, i'll inspire discussion and integrate percussion from the Indian that's Russian insisting on interest for every investor alias Incandenza, i'm an Infinite Jester

freelance rhyme writer - commission me still sending DIY dispatches from the ruins of the industry don't call me unsigned cuz a deal means diddly shit a dying business model don't make you legit so my label shifts future classics on bits of plastic hit up end-of-year lists, still fucking brassic but not waiting round doing what i'm supposed to might as well believe the government or Deepak Chopra hit the north like The Fall or a boxer bringing fists to the jaw cryptically pure, causing mystery sores off the wall like i'm pissed to the core north-west rap troubadours, the ones writing history for sure i'm the self-dramatist with a knapsack of party tricks cower from infernos sparked by the arsonist excuse me, i'm just a bitter little global villager just trying to build a Molotov outta this piss and vinegar grew up on 5-borough fantasies and alienated peer group mixed it with misfits, developed a weird troupe now up in this building i'm cooking delicate flavours into elegant playlists, distressing my neighbours and i stay focussed like i scored a rubbish bin of Ritalin love my worst enemy, could never be sick of him get my five a day plus supplementary vitamins and paraphrase all my favourite underground magicians while daft pricks need to stick to writing slashfic it's tragic, real rap heads yam 'em like a crabstick think they're the Dark Knight but stammer like Arkwright it's slapstick, they never seen a novel this graphic my fam hot whether or not somebody's taping us remember all lowercase when you write the alias shout to heathens, don't stop non-believin' cuz it's still a cold world, and i'm freezing scab-pickers' union representative westheads check for it, best percentages pestilential shit, no parenthesis hijack a sonic weapon just for emphasis ink-by-the-barrel buyer, name up on the flier with a shit list longer than We Didn't Start the Fire rare talent like my city with a clear sky drop a hot 16 on any track that's nearby and keep going till i run out of breath and pass out with a new twist like getting stoned in a glass house colonel of rhyme like the guy with a miniature tie causing a ruckus like i'm pissed up on rye and a cynic don't like it so he'll whinge and cry but i couldn't give a toss like i'm missing a die i quibble with hypocrites, diss what's ridiculous spit shit meticulous, it's mr dissonance

yeah, you know the name: Tom Ko-fuckin-walski. plenty of shit's changed plenty of shit's faulty, plenty of shit's strange plenty look at you salty if you wanna rearrange it pacifiers' desire to not rock the craft hides the high tides pretty soon we're all gonna capsize no more zoning out with drugs or entertainment i'm here to flash reality back like cats' eyes cuz oppressors never sleep like Manhattan or rust and they'll tear down palaces just to profit off the dust it's time to pick a side, no room for spectators or they'll bulldoze all you love and come back for the rest later society's Titanic, they rearrange deckchairs these apathetic poses look increasingly threadbare unplug your arse of fingers, this just got intense [avoid rectal splinters, stop sitting on the fence] disinformation rules the nation when we're told be grateful for the situation you don't know what you got till it's taken away so hands out yr pockets, it's the state of play it takes stamina resisting the stripping of your character by each and every underhanded challenger no gods, no managers; we constantly strive for higher calibre with roots in a strong Foundation like the Damaja eviction notice on the squats, make way for Tesco true heads know it's bullshit from the get-go, cuz cornered animals are only gonna get lairier: unintended consequences in the bagging area. and what do we want for the community? street party puppet shows, bunting, fake unity? Olympic village idiots and "all-in-this-together, man"? it don't take a weatherman to tell you how the feathers dance 'scuse me operator? i'm calling shenanigans champagne for the overlords, real pain for the famalams i'm-all-right-Jacks like "no place for your anger, man" but sticking-up nails get knocked: show me your hammer stance now austerity nostalgia's the staple diet "keep calm, carry on" the new "be young and be quiet" clean-up volunteers target symptoms, of course, but ignore all the forces supporting the causes and call for enforcement of all kinds of tortures "bring back hanging", "fetch the water cannon" the CS, the taser, "send our brave boys in" Polly put the kettle on, lace the brew with poison defenders of the masquerade mobilise, sad to see the way we live now can't stand a challenge, see if anyone resists they'll just smear it as "anarchy" and feed it to the media with one eye on the balance sheet but violence isn't broken glass or swinging on the Cenotaph, it's mass denial of chances for all but a special class and the thought that some lives are worth less than profit ops. don't be surprised when heads break shit till they knock it off.

a tarmac tableau, over/under seventy middle-distance panorama's heavenly, burn down the fuel tank, fill 'er up, everything is entropy highway hypnosis, we're ridin with muscle memory caffeine and sugar highs, lung at least part-black cat's eyes and tarmac, the out-of-body carjack four-wheel, five-door escape hatch sense of disconnection burn away at the same rate as your brake pads priests police flocks with the promise of redeeming 'em wanted me to join 'em but i simply wasn't feeling 'em never a churchgoer, motorways always holier set the sat-nav for utopia. follow. central reservation mirage shimmer from heat rusty bodywork, tired heart, brakes shot a one-way mirror, not a two-way street [what are you escaping from?] well, what have you got? not when I'm gonna stop but who's gonna stop me burn fuel like molotovs, it's Tommy Kowalski with no radio station assisting wonderin if i've got enough horsepower to outrun the system but freedom of the soul seems a fool's act when i can't stop the blood dripping out from underneath the fuel cap feels illegal but the speedo needle don't go high enough to overtake myself when moods crack trynna get ahead of fate, giving it the best we got flowers round the speed sign, mortality's forget-me-not this to me's philosophy, the soundtrack's cylinder dynamics shout to all unpopular mechanics drive like all connections are cut. widowed and orphaned neither the destination nor journey are important check signs for answers but there's not many there living in a road movie where nobody gets anywhere

this is the story of a man of some confusion frequently prone to heavy bouts of disillusion was uncertain of his purpose, lack of knowledge made him nervous on account of his weak constitution every day he worked to find a new solution looked high and low (but mostly low) for resolution till one day he snapped, had his best idea by far drove his car towards the nearest mental institution on the journey over there, gets an epiphany scales fall from his eyes, clearly he begins to see but it's temporary, he learns, and his demeanour soon returns to the chaos that surrounded him initially never diagnosed with anything officially he'd always just assumed his brain was wired differently but he was different this time, more clarity, more vision had to stop this legitimately or artificially who's the provider? who's the consumer who's the cancer patient living in harmony with the tumour? who makes their mind up whose mind's made up correctly? 22 catches contest me is this a path of least resistance or the right course? and who's the hero riding off into the distance on his white horse? the happy ending everyone's depending on's determined by a blind throw of a die by a divine source so he shifted up from third into gear four and he targeted his bumper through the rear door halted at the nurses' station, where they asked his motivation he said "you tell me, that's what i'm here for"

It's hard: in weeks they'll re-open the shipyard and draft up official statements for the front page citizens drown their sorrows all in a drunk rage or culture unreality in brains with a skunk haze self-medication got me stressing and questioning the possession the lesson was suspect from inception grit in our eyes when we could be diving for pearls seems like everybody's striving for the end of the world minstrel boy went to war, she washes up his coffee cup heart blacker than anything striking miners be coughing up pray to the carpenter's father knocking up the coffins as we go down with the same ship we sailed off in as we batten down the hatches and hoist up the mainstay line up the soldiers, send them off to war the same day water off a duck's back; lambs to the slaughter the ships went down in the shallowest of water past hasn't passed away, fam raise your glass today transcend dimensions, find yrself a castaway treasure every yesterday, celebrate the masquerade with wine from a golden cup, time isn't holding up do you remember the 1980s? i was there too - vaguely and lately it's crazy how revivals go way past dayglo grey areas painted over by shades of rainbow patriotic spectacles, war drum lullabies this is what it sounds like when more than doves cry still over a barrel at the mercy of some Thatcher kin the past don't die, they just switch up the packaging the future only reruns, history in front of me i'm sorry Saint Pete, i owe my soul to the company the barrel's held steady in the weapon hand the minutes say it's five to midnight, cuz everything is second-hand it's stopped ticking locked in a familiar position remember the three R's - they're all repetition fighting words fluid, we're the ones that dive through it let the dead bury their dead - who else is gonna do it? past hasn't passed away, fam raise your glass today transcend dimensions, find yourself a castaway treasure every yesterday, celebrate the masquerade with wine from a golden cup, time isn't holding up past doesn't ever die, clock-watchers testify nothing new under sun, no moment left behind every accomplishment, equal and opposite time isn't after us, see you in a second life

[diss1] we'll construct a great empire the sun never sets on where flags are available to cover what we get wrong don't ask me to live through this [submersion] fighting words become fluid and we're the ones that have to dive through it arcades for grown-ups, forty years development rain fire globally: remote-control regiment death toll irrelevant now we don't see it defend our "beautiful mind[s]" from unforgettable secrets troubled by conscience, till we silenced those voices [remember when drones were only aesthetic choices?] no-hopers for your average floating voters crash-course society: no brakes, like Toyotas this beat's on repeat as i draft my thesis pledge allegiance to pick who gets blown to pieces poetic injustice perpetrated by Reapers they'll select who's best and blow the rest to Jesus [Dan Dastardly] defenders of earth join a militant search and pump profits from under a country's dirt for its worth genocide borders attacked with aerial bombardment sound of mercy cries eclipsed by orders of a sergeant a Tuareg rebellion: autonomy/commodity feudalism broken through the notion of weak monarchy demarchy solution solve a situation properly fight a losing battle when you're fighting for democracy shocking information undercover like government ops revolution out front for a propaganda watch West Bank to western banks, myriad currency inflate until insurgents get the picture. ready? UAV. resonating anguish, enemy capitulation contrived on colonies of British Malayans [Jake Pains] no finish, we slayin' till we slain or until creating mechanisms that can make weapons to divide or hide the spiritless grace of living today it's sickness in spades used for digging up dirt or simply a grave distance the prey with drones autonomous erogenous zones grown from shades of killing a phase so give me a wave through these pixellated displays of tech caress mechs blowing kisses of hate all wisdom is waste. ample channelled in the wrong place dismantle the guilt in a wicked vision one day metal bad seeds, depending on an ending ever badly mortal pushing buttons till life's nothing short of looking for an end-of-level baddie in every nook and cranny humanity lost its faculty pass the controller until it's game over fatality cheat enabled: assault and batteries

fighting curious battles with my psyche nightly mindstate disharmony nothing in the right key invoke future perfect when present's unpleasant rearrange my name for doom incessant blown chances can leave your insides shook when bona fide answers aren't found in the right book for chief exec or fry cook, path that your life's took'll hit home harder than a right hook climbing up the walls/chewing on the furniture all that used to nurture comes back to murder you best-made decisions a slave to biorhythms bent out of shape further than the earth's curvature bugs in the mainframe, fighting a cause but the system's got a mind of its own, won't open the doors make lists to recount your sins and hope he who dies with the most scars how you like that? out to living in a psychic prison MC with a skin layer missing a harsh realm rising, triumph of bad timing welcome to my universe, it's nightmares and rhyming it's that chronic low self-esteem rap, holler if you feel that i'm to good vibes like bullets to kneecaps lowering the tone in a flash like a speed trap i'll remix the track with only drones and feedback Elastoplast over a puncture gonna be enough to contain, I'm hoping when i say toxic, you say culture we cover up deficiency with chemical clothing broken connection, faulty neurone chemical imbalance, deficiency of hormone wake up in the morning feel like death reheated frequently repeated, feelings are deep-seated fight losing battles vs. insignificance papering cracks with cheap laughs and cigarettes but this is only a continuum, i heard a theory i'm atoms, reverse engineer me

[Mayan apocalypse is a cute misdirection pop culture trinkets what the public ingest the hand is quicker than the eye on the ball we're all tricked into backing bulletproof vested interests we got body bags, land grabs, smears and innuendos a nation divided against itself can't stand and profit is a margin not a seer, we're still here as strange things happen in the land] hello my name is tom this is a first name basis a lot of shit's went down since we dropped "Toleracist" when worth's still determined by social status it's not your behaviour, more like who's the month's flavour and you'll find cops lock down rights with tight screws commentariat uncaring with shoe-size IQs these are not haikus [nope] i switched it up a level it ain't personal, supremacy's the fucking devil covert martial law, police shoot first they're painting radicalism like it's a dirty word Tom Paine'd jump off his bridge at the strife if they didn't already have him locked down for life like it's Abu Ghraib, Strangeways, Guantánamo Bay ask the wrong questions, you could go the same way darkening the future like the end of a long day there's strange things happening in the land like the song say fuck an austerity measure, even surviving is terror heads would do better if they endeavoured to struggle together those in authority killing, missiles on top of the buildings if you lift a finger in objection, effects'll be chilling offer your soul up for rental, toeing the line is essential you can have a party when you dance with a gun to your temple heavily detrimental, the culture is high-strung the economy called, said we're all gonna die young those who amass capital scramble like rabid animals then tell the underclasses to keep their demands practical savages banking on a collective insanity gambit some get malnutrition, others eat up all the cake and have it fence-sitters say tightening belts is all that's left to be done all your heroes offer is a fear of whatever's to come nostalgia is a weapon like the spectre of yesterday's might don't look to power for help, look at the mess they made, right?

let me spit you something that you might like a bit my rhyme is surgically implanted with a microchip underneath the surface of the skin as embedded ID a protection from piracy, the right to privacy fingerprint and iris scan this suspect society the writing's on the wall, in binary army of zeroes and ones, the fear of what comes they got their information from hysteria funds, mysterious ones barcode tattoos, the mark of the beast a calculation system that arose in the east destruction of higher learning, the book burning graves stay unquiet, the dead keep turning white noise, pink noise, brown noise, grey gimme the mic so i can take it away lyrics foreplay, positions, digital Kama Sutra controlling the past like who controls the future if there is hope, it lies in the derangement no consolation without console entertainment power up your character and dance with the devil and we all fall down off the bottom of the level i wrote this rhyme at five on an insomnia bout so best forget what you don't feel strongly about i wanna play games, but other rappers seem reluctant blast 'em out the sky like Duck Hunt tumbleweed scenario, north wild western gun out of my cold dead hands like Chuck Heston civil rights traitor, part II: the sequel God made man, Sam Colt made him equal maybe not a chart hit, still i drop some smart shit on a beat reminiscent of Atari cartridge 300G steez, sounding a welcome vibrant like street art in central Melbourne dissonance on Free Men beats, we tag-teaming fantastic distortions like nights of bad dreaming full spectrum dominance, dull, direct and ominous ghost in machine synonymous with every one of us

empire expansion [decisive battles, violence] rewards for his headway [demands for a Triumph] trapped in an archway [a visual simile] or public relations [of glorious symmetry] to demonstrate a city outgrown by a man by miscalculation or ingenious plan a show of societas under blood-red sky the crowd make clear where their sympathies lie faced men with javelins [terrifying spectacle] the horror of slaughter [screaming was incredible] a clamour for clemency [a battle of pride and elegance] just don't forget his name [we remember, like the elephants] what's that we see in the ruins of an empire? one man's obsession or one more unheeded lesson? they colonised the continents and spread like bacteria Scotland to Egypt, Portugal to Syria roads, shipping, engineering public water, telephone weapon systems, agriculture mining, building, concrete, stone indoor plumbing, sanitation strength and speed of innovation domes and arches, dams and bridges continental subjugation land unfit for them to settle poisoning by heavy metal barbarian hordes, in-fighting omens in dead birds and lightning breakdown of their civic pride plagues throughout the countryside new religions grow in favour lost their grip on captured neighbours global domination was the essence of the dream could have been the future but for iron and steam... last of the Romans those who forgot that the elephant is intelligent and virtuous wrinkles her grey face at mankind's enterprises o chariot, second to none o chariot, carry us on i, the elephant, wrote this