BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
Revolver
- I got eight chambers (chambers) in my head,
- They’re all neighbours in my head
- Though can’t see them through infrared,
- Only believe me they’re there,
- I got eight chambers (chambers) in my head.
- A shroud of darkness clings to me like film,
- Like I go in with empty cartridges, defenseless,
- Cold malice from the poisoned chalice leaves me senseless,
- Déjà vu if Macbeth’s apprentice hailed from Nazareth,
- But here ‘live’ seems to have fallen into the abyss,
- Knows only death’s miasma, living gamma rays,
- Pray for Banner his brain to solve this before I dissolve,
- Wouldn’t mind if I evolve into Hulk, bulk up ‘gainst backstabs,
- Brute force through traps in this murky journey,
- Treachery and deceit, uncouth of me.
- But as if another chamber opened,
- The walls shake, my mind forsake me, like I stepped on a rattlesnake,
- Overtake the pain in my veins, rather chambers of opaque
- Than non opaque phenomena causing headaches,
- Released the beast, Hulk Smash now overpleased,
- An increased heartbeat, a skin of concrete,
- Internal reflections fear the beast,
- But now this is the creature, not me in control:
- Smashing through patrols, I be holding the console controlling my alternate self,
- Like I'm a deceiver cleaver preacher screecher creature with double features. Fuck myself.
- I got eight chambers (chambers) in my head,
- They’re all neighbours in my head
- Though can’t see them through infrared,
- Only believe me they’re there,
- I got eight chambers (chambers) in my head.
- Then the third door opens and the heat's extinguished,
- The creature's defeat, finally finished,
- No more challenging my baseline.
- I see a thousand gridlines, uniformly designed,
- I'm an architect, outlined in retrospect,
- Perhaps a sad aftereffect, an indirect,
- Pantomime, an unfinished project,
- Crying for help, though really calculating,
- Plying for hire, try to be captivating,
- Can't stop simulating situations just an architect.
- Knock it off. Break the glass. Come speed down the bypass.
- Let them see, let them come just to get outclassed.
- Disagree? Come right here, and I'll show you my degree
- That lets me decree the rewrite of the script, don't worry,
- Just the nondescript subscript's enough to outstrip you
- While you're still conscripting from the rappers' crypt,
- Wanna compare notes? Sorry, the curtains closed.
- Only four rooms disclosed, the rest stays undisclosed,
- Chamber 4's king; don't burden yourself, be composed,
- As I play with your heartstring like a fucking bow.
- Why still oppose the unopposed? You're 'ready exposed.
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A blueprint is like a report card for your lyrics. It contains a lyrical breakdown and analysis of all the words, syllables, and rhymes in your song.
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