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The Hearse

The Hearse is a 1980 American supernatural horror film directed by George Bowers and starring Trish Van Devere and Joseph Cotten. It follows a schoolteacher from San Francisco who relocates to a small town in northern California to spend the summer in a house she inherited from her deceased aunt, only to uncover her aunt's past as a devil worshipper, which seems to trigger a series of supernatural occurrences. more »

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Know that explicit scenes diminished dreams
Whether it's a vicious schemes of twisted memes
Hyped up by wicked greens like nicotine
Being used by ridged teens for vivid dreams
Feeling bruised by twisted spleens
As an excuse to get soothed by remedies
Feeling the tunes from the blues like melodies
That'll set a beat heavenly
Whether it is to my elegant weaponry

Oh! The chills
Chin hair standing up strong
Like Ric Flair drip stare
Bringing that to all of y'all like a miscarriage
Little piggies kicking it up like Sinclair
Prince, Quinn, or any other player
Cringing when I'm singing rocks cannot be lifted
Cause your ears are going to ring bare

And knowing your in to let intellectuals
Intel let you dictate your future
Will create maneuver you can recuperate from
Due to the use of the gearshift
Smeared skidmark, weird it's even there like Tik Tok
Artistic, hard to miss it like Rick Ross
With the likelihood of this song getting me pissed off

Wrapping with a fashion statement blessed
Like a Baptist, as if the ration had me
Tapping in the action that is packing
Like a job, quick kiss, intimate like it's chapstick
That has been attracted to that agony
Of actually breaking it down like anatomy
And making it foul like a tragedy

As I open on it, flow hypnotic, dope as Logic
So obnoxious, soaring rockets, or ring hopping
Chose a topic, go in on it, open pockets
No demonic foreign objects, only optical range
Full gage page like a skrull change on minimal wage
Whimsical age strong as a bull's rage
But as soft as a wool sage

A flock of seagulls glide through the non-lethal wind
In Endgame like Don Chedle
In a beagle with Kenevil, hot evil grin
We were quick like shurikens
Even in bed I'll lear a phobia
Especially when I'm groping ya
Hoping ya leave it open, mobius
Being real evoking, euphonious

Hill is way too steep for the soleus
Need to clear out like exfoliants
It will get bad for the phoniest
Rappers alive who can't navigate the pathway
To have grace and not have hate
When half baked and even half basic
But to mistake this as a disgrace
You're Lacking the key which is patience

So the ticket for the long run
Is the fulfilment that will be all done

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