In den Warenkorb
Wunschliste
Im so lifted, im so gifted
Skies full of long distance cameras,
Cancerous thoughts are dancing on camera,
Pack a day smokers, pack their bags for the camera,
Sodium in your food, thats not on camera,
No conspiracies, just lyric seas, sail the seven of them,
My hypothesis, god I will defeat, or should I come in peace
Either way thou shall know me as beast,
Rose like D, the apple of the tree,
Come to think about it, several love the violence,
Im just in love with violins,
Play the soul strings and then I iron them,
But I cant think straight, the irony,
Poachin life for some ivory, dead poets society
Used to talk about piety, now we look for sobriety,
Pass the 40, and the magnum with it,
Pass the blunt, helps me love the dance of linen, and the fancy women
Gold chains and necklaces
Look like ransom figures,
Your ego big but I am bigger, I’ll never pull the trigger
Third world contraband, but ignorance is bliss,
I cant lust the future’s lips, if we never even kissed,
Every moment we have spent, feels like moments we have missed
And i hold no regrets about it, but still I wish
That this lisp in my mother tongue, lack of economy,
Could come together, and swear solemnly,
Were trying to learn astronomy,
We havent even got the roots in the ground, honestly
I see no way out of this jungle maze
Im so amazed, we have made it this far, and still I blaze
Purple haze till the end of my days
The end of days, we got presidents, wearing toupees
Im kinda ashamed and all too in awe, we cant be replaced
Just look in my face, and say it is not about race
Im still in first place, it isnt my place but I aint to blame
They only like my colour till they read out my name
My culture is vain, it runs through my veins, it cant be surpressed
Could give a fuck about some other brother wearing a dress
Im trying to stress, you glorify sex, could care less
If you give the world aids in the process you bitch,
We all fucked up back home, no jobs for us back home,
Im so glad that I can write my songs, i want my people to get along,
But they cant because they feel alone
I even feel alone
I need a dictaphone, matter fact, bring me a microphone,
Nah fuck that, give me the speakerphone, even if i stand alone
I will be the standalone, godfather, new al capone
Prolly on, a little too much liquor to be saying this,
But if you really do think about it, this the Devils kiss.
© David Bajsic 2018
EN-US
EN-EU
