I början av Januari 2014 låstes Whoa och du kan alltså ej logga in eller skriva något nytt i forumen. Innehåll i forum osv kommer finnas tillgängligt. Läs Mer »

Thoughts from a dried out mind, squeeze for thoughts

Vår Hiphop - Lyricism

   

2007-03-31 21:43

Thoughts from a dried out mind, squeeze for thoughts

I'll never get anything out of writing halfwritten shit, gotta let these ones go..

Our relationship's went from engagement rings
To dollars, silver, jewlery and paper bills
Went from summer love to a winter heat
From beams on the sidewalk to a grey matter on the streets

You know the feeling
When you wake up at night time
And just want to fight
Stab, murder, murder
Emotions start bubbling up
Inwards you're screaming
Outwards you're silent
Calm outer shell reflecting
You're blood is cooking
Furious

I got that feeling, cop that?
When every inch of your body's screaming for combat
When every centimenter's blowing, exploding each second
Thoughts pumping my blood, circulatiing each lesson

Let's fly to the skies, I'll meet you there
With open arms, an embracing smile and a sun chair
Contemplate questions of life and practice love there
Jump the clouds, skip the rain and the thunder

Can't you see I'm living the dream here
At least as long as I'm tired enough to laugh at life

She's Madonna, cheese fantastic
A thin slice of heaven wrapped between to pieces of plastic
Silky smooth melting on your tongue, oh God, she's miracolous
The touch of her breath got you feeling astmathic
Always bringing that classic gotta-have-it feeling
When you open the package and start the ravaged peeling
So exalted you rip it apart and start gathering pieces

Still rivers run deep, they say
Never without claiming that the wild ones doesn't
They just got a rocky bottom that's often bothered
By stupid people and stuck up problems
Always disturbing my buckled conscious
Everything's easy to solve the ignorant, easy way
I'm just too tired to pop the bubble
Paying props and hommage with the blood of monsters
"..cop my brother!"
Alcohol blurs the memories, she told me once
I drank the final drop of ink, hoping for forgiveness
Painted the feelings on paper, chased words like never
With the only aim to feel different, special

Think it, do it, brew it!

norman bates behemot
bubba fett alfred bello
arthur's detour azazello