Solé (Tonya Michelle Johnston)
Solé (Tonya Michelle Johnston) - Respect, Pt3 songtekst
Je score:
Banging rocks together makes sunshine Banging heads with rocks 'till blood comes: the writing process Everything has diapers on and smells like It's time for a change Or for some holes in the flag My whole perspective relies solely on questions That can't have answers Like everyone oin their assumptions A big bigpen driven by dead dogs; If that's your site Put up a superhero with a better pokerface This noble cause reeks of self-gratification But it's more like no satisfaction So when I die The fessin' go to college And the writers go to Heaven If you wasn't born on this planet Blame the World for being there I'm not assuming responsibility for everyone lost in the shuffle; My whole philosophy is based on moodswings Limited attention spans and an expansion pack for everything Am I feeling it? Mostly full of it Selling my cuts for the art of it Placed all of my faith in these heretics We're all futur presidents; Nobody knows it yet That's the beauty of it all Welcome to my desert island The wheather is glorious Take a picture (No one reads the articles) I need music with texture and Someday, a happy meal Rude awakening after rude awakening I'm asking y'all to be police until I match the blood on the battlefield With the gleam in my eye If I could make it stop raining This whole damn place wouldn't know What to do with all the sunlight I've been saving up for a life like this Your God is booing you offstage And your heroes don't respect you It's all in vain and can't be bought: Hung from the ceiling and often attached to the first thought She gave me a handshake full of empty promises Now I'm thirty minus something Plus I wrestle demons down to the ground in my spare time It's a new day The pigeons no longer fly yonder; They make rappers out of messengers and text from all the classics Meet the archangel with two minutes to live at all times I hold a mirror against a mirror against a mirror against a mirror What I'm saying is: Word is deceased Work is slavery They're saving asses for the big layoff Where they lie you down to take it like a native colonized By search and seizure The grass is always greener and when you make it there It dies (if getting there don't kill you) And the people there don't share This is what your bones will sound like when they play 'em in space If I could make it stop raining This whole damn place wouldn't know What to do with all the sunlight I've been saving up for a life like this Your God is booing you offstage And your heroes don't respect you