I write my songs in language no one understands cuz I just can't put words through the pen, like some can.
Oh, here he comes again, with that; nothing you're used to, self-aware flair.
Always walks on grass, and never asphalt.
Try not to be so anticipatory,
and I'll try not to be so associative.
Maybe you could just slow down, a minute or two?
and let the rest of the world catch up to you?
cuz I'm feeling, two timelines.
All knowing glance, stifled smile,
rolling eyes betrays what's hidden inside.
Kid's the type I just can't decide like...
do I punch him or jump his bones?
maybe get him stoned?
he don't even want you.
Even if you ask to come thru...
dude, he will crucify you...
He also sings in language in no one understands,
cuz it seems to me, he's had it up to his knees, with anyone ever hashing out the meaning.
He also sings in language no one understands, cuz it seems so bland to be understood.
Urbanite longing for the desolation of the desert. drums beat down on you from above like the sun while hot tar guitar burns your feet as you run with it. music for cowboy punks who hate the city. Real 100th Floor
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