I have written, not on a hunch and 'cause I wanted
But 'cause of love, because I had to and I should have
Would I stay silent, homeboy, believe me, stones would start to cry
You'd feel the woes, my friend, had I not written about mine
From what I heard, some make the tracks when I make tracks1
But I swear, this panzer here drops mysticism in the booth
In my sanctum sanctorum2, yeah, in my cathedral
Fear has long since lost its forum; and no hard shell
Of this world is necessary or able to withstand
That, which we, God willing, are unveiling here and tremblingly surviving
So I gaze in awe and bounce to what God's will has made to sound
And I trumpet it around, homeboy, like Hildegard von Bingen3
Can you feel me, love?
Na, na, na
Out of my refuge
Please come to my refuge, this place where you can bolt to
Where I consummated my studies, where words become elixirs
Man, shit's too deep and when we're at a loss of words
Music overtakes our ministry
This is a key moment, it happens only when we need it
Knowledge understands, when he's inspirited by the rhythm
All the slogans are in vain, everything's a bit synthetic
Like some girls' breasts; if only we knew what's missing now
True love - I hold this Grail in all its honor
They're hunting for flies, instead of cleaning up the feces
What remains of your speech, what counts at the mic, are melodies of fate
Meaning for ever and ever nothing left but Elohim4
Can you feel me, love?
Na, na, na
Out of my refuge
1. fig. trans. (lit. "From what I heard, some are for [using] their feet, when [I] do this")2. In the Old Testament, Sanctum Sanctorum or Inner Sanctum means the dwelling place of God in the Temple of the Israelites, in Christian tradition it also stands for the core of a man's soul, which God wants to enter3. Hildegard von Bingen was a female Christian scholar, author and mystic during the central medieval period of Germany4. Hebrew name for God