Buck 65 (Stinkin' Rich)

Buck 65 (Stinkin' Rich) - Square One songtekst

Je score:

Buck 65-Square 1



(Some mumbling)

Pretty soon the hippies of today, will be the squares of tomorrow

It was the echoing voices of the old ones

Through thick steeled forests and over scorched earth

Always just out of reach

A murder of crows judged my every footstep

My bones were frozen

Penniless and entirely out of breath 

I washed my beautiful hands in the black market dog water trough

But through it all the real stick in my spokes

Was the torment of my dreams

I fought of sleep with both fists and sometimes fire

With no more then a blow gun I made from an exhausted pen

I shot the stars out of the sky

When each one fell sparkling to the ground

I made wishes that never came true

Apparitions of angels with angry eyes

Appeared at each new moon

My own ghost be gain whispering

Trees died if I tried to climb them

The decision was made for me

To begin interpreting real life just as I would nightmares

(More mumbling)



Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65, Buck 65

Watching an already dead world vanish

We the banished and outlawed wander

Hither and yonder 

Like dogs gone hungry

Funky and angry and sometimes ugly

Drums like drugs have turned us to scavengers

Pathfinders, addicts and mathematicians 

Practitioners of black magic

We make music from used up junk and bad luck dreams

Liars and losers

Emus and aardvarks

Gypsies and pen thieves

Peddlers, Card Sharks

All of us fortune tellers home in the forest

Hard core, building a cardboard fortress

Forward fast and backwards blindfolded 

Trying to find gold buried in flood planes

Covered in blood stains

Fly bites and egg yolk

Running away with one of my legs broke



Sometimes it's lonesome

Traveling homeless

Not knowing where you're going

Riding the railroads

Pickups and sailboats

Most of the loco-motives

Once we decide to see some of the country side

Working with circus

Performers and cut-throats 

Discussions with perfectionists, perverts and poets

Haven't you ever heard of the

1200 hoboes?

We aren't vampires dressed like rock stars

We build campfires and ride box-cars 

Town to town, we just write songs

And plus we stay up like all night long

Cuz we aren't vampires dressed like rock stars

We build campfires and ride box-cars

Town to town, we just write songs

And plus we stay up like all night long 



20 some years is a long walk

Even if its not in a straight line

You see a lot of things in the distance

You know what they say about great minds

You and I think about the same things

Dream the same dreams

Play the same games

We started out in the same place

Believe it or not we got the same names

Everything happens for a good cause

Whether it be victory or loss

And the road may turn into a run way

But you'll know what to do someday

Trust me I've seen it all before

I've climbed to the tops of the tallest trees

To get away from the deep water

To feel the touch of the smallest breeze

You'll find a girl with a low voice

Who holds the world in her bare hands

You'll fall in love you'll have no choice

Once you are given a fair chance

For the first time you will sleep well

Take a deep breath 

See the sun shine

Hold on to her for dear life

And then watch the whole world unwind

Ask her to show you some magic

And I guarantee that she will say yes

Tell her you've seen forever and

You'll be together not a day less

Just know until that time comes

And after you cross that first mile

That the hardest part is behind you

And all the pain will be worthwhile

(From storm clouds, Come angels, Let pain give you pleasure

From dirt roads, to flowers, when faith can be measured

From storm clouds, Come angels, Let pain give you pleasure

From dirt roads, To Flowers, when faith can be measured.



I know a man who was born with his heart on the outside

Every mans worst fear he also had heavy hands

He couldn't touch his lovers face

He couldn't hold a baby

He would never desert them 

But he was worried he would hurt them maybe

Mad at the world his face turned hot pink

The best he could do was just try to not think

But he was to bothered

So he would only try rarely

He read the last page of every book in the library

He lacked the charisma 

Of a true revolutionary crime fighter

Would try to write but kept breaking his typewriter

He preaches manifesto militant radical

Was diligent but his greatest mistakes were gramatical

If he only spent more time rehearsing and preparing

There wouldn't have to be so much cursing and swearing

Eyes on fire

His volume was blistering

No one had taught him about the power of whispering

He is dynamite

Blows kisses

Eats dirt

His mouth of a volcano

He is a t-shirt

He stands on stilts

But doesn't stand for funny stuff

Ask me 

He just hasn't been around the sun enough

He paints self-portraits 

With a roller

Only eats corn

And then tries to sell his own soul

On a street corner

He always remembers everyone's numbers

And sometimes cries into his own cumbersome hands



(Scratching... Mixes)

Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind

And lord knows I try to close my eyes

But it happens so fast

I keep my eye on the ball

But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall

And like

Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind

And lord knows I try to close my eyes

But it happens so fast

I keep my eye on the ball

But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall

Read beginning to end and measured sideways

I've traveled the length of your desert highways

Been under your bed

And slept in ditches

I saw your scars

Was kept in stitches

To keep from crying

I'm trying not to pay attention

But as I may have mentioned

I'm being held hostage

I'm lost and exhausted

I want to go home now

But I'm to far gone

And I don't even know how

The silent knight and tarnished armor

Charming and harmful

The charma chameleon 

Might get violent

Dancing with shadows

And playing charades

It's the minimal plan 

Of the invisible man

And what's it like 

Living life

You may ask

Standing on the other side

A two way glass

Well it's not what it's cracked up to be

I'll tell you that much

You can look

But you can't touch

Like

Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind

And lord knows I try to close my eyes

But it happens so fast

I keep my eye on the ball

But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall

And like

Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind

And lord knows I try to close my eyes

But it happens so fast

I keep my eye on the ball

But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall

All I want to do 

Is go fly a kite

Or take a hike

And try and keep myself

From taking a flying leap

There's ringing in my ears

Especially at night

Collidescopic visions of a cocaine cat fight

People play parlor games

Behind closed doors

Secrets are sacred

When nobody knows yours

But somebody does

You forgot about the bottom feeders

The dirty rotten cheaters

And all of the stock breeders

Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind

And lord knows I try to close my eyes

But it happens so fast

I keep my eye on the ball

But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall

And like

Sometimes dumb crimes blow my mind

And lord knows I try to close my eyes

But it happens so fast

I keep my eye on the ball

But still I never asked to be a fly on the wall
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Taal: Engels

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