The Quest
attica blues feat. roger robinson Lyrics

I am
I exist

I am searching
I am actively looking for something

I am searching for faith, beauty and hip-hop
I am seeking the presence of spirituality, aesthetics, and hip-hop music in my life

I am searching for all those who died between hip hop and heaven
I am trying to find the souls of those who perished without experiencing the fullness of hip-hop music and the afterlife

And all souls set adrift and free from bedlam
I'm also seeking for those souls whose mental state and/or environment had caused them to lose their sense of direction

With headstrong lyrics that rise like smoke from silver incense burners
Lyrics that are powerful and arousing, emanating like the smoke of a burning stick of incense

I wonder who stole the thunder with the rasping edge
I'm curious about who took possession of the thunderous impact and edginess of hip-hop music

And who banged for baptisms with butterflies, serpentine roads and sunsets broken by cicadas
I'm also wondering who produced music for new beginnings, symbolized by the fluttering of butterflies, winding paths, and stunning but noisy sceneries

Have we really lost our century in an hour?
I'm questioning whether we missed out on a hundred years of progress and hope in the short span of an hour

Are we devoured by blind faith in the powers that be?
I'm asking if we're consumed by our unquestioning belief in the authority of those in power

Are these words as tense as drawn bow strings?
I'm inquiring if these words carry as much tension as the string of a taut bow and arrow

Shall we rebuild the tears like sap from rubber trees?
I'm suggesting that maybe we can find a way to repair our brokenness, like how rubber trees are tapped for their healing sap

Answer me!
I'm demanding a response from someone or anyone listening to me

Answer me you T.S. Elliots in goose down jackets with your felt tip urban hieroglyphs, spliff smoke, and spray paint
I'm calling out to those dressed like T.S. Eliot, adorned with graffiti and references to urban culture, with a cigarette in one hand and a spray can on the other

Answer me you soliloquists with clenched fists 'round the mike
I'm asking those who perform soliloquies with their fists gripping the microphone to reply to me

Answer me you angels in addidas
I'm addressing individuals who may be considered guardians, dressed in Adidas clothing

Tell me
I want someone to inform me

Do M.C.'s still howl rhymes into the purple black of midnight?
I'm wondering if the artists who masterfully control the microphone still use their craft to fill the quiet of nighttime

Do they still fight to make arrangements with deities courting them with a jangle of gold and silver bangles on their wrist?
I'm asking if these artists still struggle to enter into a beneficial relationship with divine beings, employing gold and/or silver adornments as part of their ritual

I need yearning voices of mangled passion
I desire to hear raw, unfiltered sounds of individuals passionately expressing their emotions, even if their expressions are jumbled/unclear

I need rehearsed create those style of faith and fashion
I want polished individuals to create a style that amalgamates spirituality and aesthetics

I'm searching for hip-hop beats, stomping feet to implore the ? ? ringing across the seagulls to muffle the sun
I'm looking for hip-hop beats and accompanying stomping feet to request that the sound of unknown origin that resounds across the seagulls cease and allow for the sun to take over

I'm searching for perfumed cherry blossoms and ?
I desire fragrant cherry blossoms and possibly another aesthetic association

You see there will be no toast to the future in the banquet table of ?
I'm acknowledging that there will be no time in the future to celebrate success or progress at this present juncture

No golden petals weaving a carpet of light
There won't be any luxurious elements, like a carpet of gold flowers shining in illumination

No hint of arrogance on puckered lips
There will be no sign of someone being full of themselves

No wind-swept islands and dreams of sun-lit silence
There will be no dreamy, idyllic landscapes or quiet moments before the rising of the sun

And no free-style incantations to save the souls of man
There won't be any spontaneous recitations of poetic, powerful words to rescue people from their plight

I'm peeling off your straitjacket so you feel the sun my friend
I'm freeing people from the tight restrictions that have been holding them back so they can experience the warmth and joy of life

I want wings, a feather, and booms so we can fly like birds to better lands
I desire to soar to higher ground along with people, aided by joining wings, a feather for balance, and bursts of euphoria

I'm wondering
I'm still curious

I'm wondering how temples are now smokestacks
I'm inquiring how places of worship have turned into factories or other sites emitting pollution

I'm up all night in silvery moonlight with palms of ??
I'm awake all night with just the light of the moon and enigmatic palms, possibly grasping for something tangible

Who stole my afro-pick?
I'm trying to figure out who took my personal item for grooming my afro hairstyle

Who licked my fingertips to sooth scratches from the vinyl groove?
I'm pondering about who moistened my fingertips so that they could glide smoothly over scratches and grooves in a vinyl record

Has anybody seen faith, beauty and hip hop?
I'm inquiring if anyone has observed the expression of spirituality, aesthetics, and hip-hop music simultaneously

I have to find faith, beauty and
I am compelled to locate instances of spirituality, aesthetics, and

Hip hop
The musical genre that I consider can enhance my life and imbibe others with positive attributes