Chorus one:

Fusion
A world without fusion is just an illusion
Open your eyes and realize the movement
A world without fusion is just an illusion

I’ll consume a song like Unicrons massive mandibles munchin star cereal
Sounds assimilated like swirling worlds of raw material
Ethereal cuts for raves or unpaved country
I crave the rusty enclaves of industry
Dusty plates discarded and kissed with the hissin
Get fixed and christened in the mix of my lost transmissions
Missing components put in place with a purpose
For the moments that you search for that space beneath the surface
Surface tension
That succumbs to life diverse as a barrier reef
Inviting new insights maybe you biters will bury your teeth tighter
Taste and space fold with it
Erase old limts
Go visit and spit it at these malnutritic musicians and critics
Rigid food groups
As I phase through flavors for new soups
This tech hop wrecks shop fused with fruity loops and lasers
Two scoops of paper seasoned with silicone
And smothered in sound waves to savor
I love to labor in laboratories with bands of brain bombers
That combat fake categories made strictly for the sake of commerce
I’m deconstructing walls breaking down the illusions
Confusin the ones that only stick with the norm
Cause every things in motion
We’re all in liquid form

Chorus repeated


This individual etcher sketches visuals
Contorted with endorphins morphin flesh in empty measures
I mesh and meld new patterns better call me MC Escher
With pin point under pressure
Perhaps the poised professor X for the way a nerd preferred to join textures
This poindexter dexterously makes a performance felt
I could make you leap to a loop that I lifted off Lawrence Welk
A dialect dancer unhampered like some
I tamper to enhance the standard
The cypher Sanford and Son
A junkticon recluse let loose
To rummage through and resurrect the refuse
Refutes the current constructs my intellect intercepts
Like hip hop slept on cause its spawned on the internet
See all the while I supported a sort of wild
Cerebral salad of assorted styles
My muses melded my mind  with music molded
Like metal mixed at a molten level
A rebel
Revoltin foldin space on time like fabric
Nomadic
Free from prisons roamin chromatic prisms of rhythm
This linguists sounds linger
Like strings in mingus’ fingers
The premis is a emphasis on synthesis for progression
Collaborations needed to bring new verse to a session

Chorus repeated