Tekst piosenki
Gavin Castleton: Absent
I'm a self-appointed blind missionary positioning myself to steer this bull with red eyes and fake blood into the pop wall. My sacred ground is found to be moonlighting as a well-painted bathroom stall my earth-shattering message is just a mating call. All the sweat in the world won't make a house out of feathers, nor will good temperament adjust the weather. The variables are perfect; it's the equation that sucks.
You want my arms not my mouth? Then why do you have to ask my permission to box me out? You're boring yourself into inspiration while here's me holding up a flag for a country I don't live in (trying to (w)rap a cause without a ribbon)!
You scientists you lovers have the same blood as brothers plus bad haircuts
Thanks for the laughs, I'm slipping into a more comfortable me one harmony at a time. I got so used to playing the bench that I stopped writing rhymes. Data Entry believe it! The world needs people like me! Perhaps I'm losing interest with the situation at hand trying to beat democracy into a one-man band.
I've toured across the entire United States, played thirty-two shows straight, is that a big deal? No. But everywhere I go kids are telling me, I like the songs that you do you should rap more. I tell them rap is whack, store their comments in the back of my brain and walk quietly, carry a big sticker with only my band's name. Every time I think I'm being silenced and I've got something important to say, I remind myself why I bear a synth and walk this way: if one of us should stray, start hogging the spotlight, it won't be long before the team spirit gives way to spite. But what do I do if I don't think we rock the spot right? How long do I have to find myself in something I don't write?
And I've been lying to myself there's no team, no group effort. We grew apart despite maintaining a communist image. Our living conditions and responsibilities have become so varied that any hopes of a unified message should be buried. Conversation is now forever laced with the things that we carry and a solo record can turn a pack of wolves into a dogfight, you'll see... The wolf I invited to dinner is having me.
You want my arms not my mouth? Then why do you have to ask my permission to box me out? You're boring yourself into inspiration while here's me holding up a flag for a country I don't live in (trying to (w)rap a cause without a ribbon)!
You scientists you lovers have the same blood as brothers plus bad haircuts
Thanks for the laughs, I'm slipping into a more comfortable me one harmony at a time. I got so used to playing the bench that I stopped writing rhymes. Data Entry believe it! The world needs people like me! Perhaps I'm losing interest with the situation at hand trying to beat democracy into a one-man band.
I've toured across the entire United States, played thirty-two shows straight, is that a big deal? No. But everywhere I go kids are telling me, I like the songs that you do you should rap more. I tell them rap is whack, store their comments in the back of my brain and walk quietly, carry a big sticker with only my band's name. Every time I think I'm being silenced and I've got something important to say, I remind myself why I bear a synth and walk this way: if one of us should stray, start hogging the spotlight, it won't be long before the team spirit gives way to spite. But what do I do if I don't think we rock the spot right? How long do I have to find myself in something I don't write?
And I've been lying to myself there's no team, no group effort. We grew apart despite maintaining a communist image. Our living conditions and responsibilities have become so varied that any hopes of a unified message should be buried. Conversation is now forever laced with the things that we carry and a solo record can turn a pack of wolves into a dogfight, you'll see... The wolf I invited to dinner is having me.
Autor tekstu: nieznany
