[Sheriff Rhys Chatham]

my rhymes, son!

I am premanufactured beats and lines about dope watches, scandanavian scarves dyed with human blood, and science class skeltons carved from elephant tusks. Hip hop puppet master apprentices ripping rhymes from wheel of fortune's rhyme time and following fools in line to the end of the world. Where little boys fall in love with little girls and men fall head over heels for women driven by revolution. Where ideas grow like trees, starting young, strong and thick to grow and blossom into something beautiful, then die when every one forgets about it.