conductor
• Written by wasp
i wield the baton that cracks skulls into symphonies
your whole crew just offkey backup singers to me
the strings in my hands aint attached to no fiddle
i make snare drums jump like they scared of the sticks
your flows staccato while mines legato crime
the brass sections bullets when i point to shoot
your verse was a rest in my grand composition
the metronomes ticking matches my hearts condition
i conduct riots where the mob moves in triplets
your dissents just grace notes under my dictatorship
the woodwinds are wheezing your last breaths in tune
your death rattles pitch-perfect, shame its your swan song
the timpanis trembling like whores in church
your girls vibratos the best part of your worth
the choirs all weeping but its just my warmup
your lifes fermata got cut short by my downbeat
i strung your spine up as new cello strings
your ribs play xylophone when the cops come knocking
your teeth make perfect ivory for my new keys
your tendons are harp strings that play suicide notes
your skulls the resonator for my darkest chords
your screams sustain longer than my pedal tone
your bloods the rosin for my bows next stroke
your last words were "encore" as the curtain closed
the overtures gunfire in 6/8 time
your arias the sound of your jaw dislocating
the librettos written with your spinal fluid
your high Cs all shrieks since i took your lung capacity
the balconys weeping but its just my vibrato
your standing ovations you begging upright
the fat ladys singing through your slit throat
your final bows the noose snapping at curtain call
your eulogys sung by the bitches you loved
my batons now tapping your coffins weak wood
the pallbearers stumble to my irregular meter
your graves the first rest that you've ever hit right
the flowers are wilting in diminished chords
your mothers wails are slightly sharp, its annoying
the dirt hits the lid in perfect 4/4 time
the worms eat your eyes but hum my greatest hits
