Pigeon -. Aim for the sun
Hej! den här texten är lite i berättande form om en person som ställer sig utanför det sociala spelet så att säga. Handlar om hur han får en annan överblick på hur våra samhälleliga villkor leder till mycket destruktiva värderingar och ageranden. Jag låter texten säga resten, men kände att premissen kanske behövde förklaras då den är ganska löst skriven. Den är en omskrivning av en text jag skrev för många år och är därför formulerad på ett sätt där den refererar tillbaka till originaltexten.
this poet still aint tall or handsome, not a care in the world
says barely a word, unless he has to be heard
never owned a mansion or a private jet
never had an eye on it, never cared what Simon says
still a humble person, knows how fucked the world is
with most social ops performed by drunken surgeons
directing how his boat will turn
against every grain and ocean swirl he's approaching
always further to knowing what sanity is
never was material things and the panic it brings
only traveling with some laughs and companionship
realizing he'll never know what travesty is
his mind on the skyline, getting a flood of clarity
with a wide smile, bright eyes, love and charity
avoiding this monster that's holding hostages
with a deep breath, and it won't bother him
This talented lyricist grabs his pen livid
tryin to make average images pass as vivid
but truth is told, and sometimes violently
and he can't help but portray an ugly society
you might run and hide from it, its a natural reaction
just know half of the battle is tackling that shit
you might be scared or embarrased, actual panic
anger or sadness, maybe happy you've lasted
he stays honest with lyrics, conscious in thinking
never wanted to give in to a game of rock paper scissors
in search for the skylines end
couldn't try findin it stuck in a nine-five gig
applying science for true enlightenment
not a huge mansion or a new private jet
he's aiming for the sun and is never far from it
only carrying note paper and a pencil sharpener