| If you think that no one’s looking
|
| If you think that no one’s listening, babe
|
| Then you’re ahead of the game
|
| No machines, no funerals
|
| No plugs to pull, this is my living will
|
| And it all seems beautiful
|
| Let it go, on with the carousel
|
| Any day in a daze in the grey in the dirt
|
| With a foot on your neck and your teeth on the curb
|
| Lotta debt, lotta work
|
| No check, lotta hurt
|
| Lotta thoughts, big drop, no net
|
| No safe in your speech
|
| I’ll take trouble with me
|
| I know when I’m beat and I can’t separate these
|
| This route, these tries, are mine
|
| This mission forgets sleeps
|
| This mind, it’s mine, I’ll own this manic, yeah
|
| That miss-step that’s mine
|
| That rough wake that’s mine
|
| This might be it
|
| And it all comes back
|
| Trust, dodge, aim away
|
| Circus rigging, games played
|
| Clutch cover, sick lay
|
| Let’s get nervous, let’s get nauseous
|
| Meds for the life, dead to the headache
|
| Dead to the cautious here for the sedate
|
| To wake 'em and skate and take names
|
| Make patience the standard, no pain
|
| I’m a man with a matador mind man damn
|
| And the plan is to blow the door wide man, yeah
|
| I’m a mess, I’m a creep
|
| No fresh, so me
|
| I’m a troubadour here to underscore the other side, yeah
|
| And it all comes back
|
| Only got the two choices
|
| All day every
|
| Stay hushed or make noises
|
| We’re made to break
|
| Let’s test the old limits
|
| We got us, big drop, no, let’s go
|
| I’m suffocating
|
| I know when I’m beat
|
| But I can’t separate these
|
| This route, these tries, are mine
|
| This mission forgets sleeps
|
| This mind, it’s mine, I’ll own this manic, yeah
|
| That miss-step that’s mine
|
| That rough wake that’s mine
|
| This might be it, this might be it
|
| Got my scheme bag, keys in hand
|
| «Peace» in the note, ten bucks and a plan
|
| Thieves out of chance
|
| Give a reason, glance
|
| Leave, ghost
|
| No luck til you make it
|
| Sleeves to to the elbow
|
| Grease to the hello
|
| Ease in, please give a call to my pops
|
| Tell him hell froze
|
| Tell him I’mma see an end, but no before him
|
| Big drop, no net, no
|
| Out of your reach
|
| You’ll never catch me
|
| I know when I’m beat
|
| But I can’t separate these
|
| This route, these tries, are mine
|
| This mission forgets sleeps
|
| This mind, it’s mine, I’ll own this manic, yeah
|
| That miss-step that’s mine
|
| That rough wake that’s mine
|
| This might be it |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Piano Hits feat. Isaac Gale of Marijuana Deathsquads, artist - P.O.S. Album song We Don't Even Live Here, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп