| Things were amazing when you lived in LA
|
| Things were sublime up in the East Bay
|
| Then you landed in England’s grey London town
|
| Again things were great
|
| You say you’re a writer but what can you say
|
| When each night ends another perfect day?
|
| When a week in a hostel was a fabulous stay
|
| You’re just too high to reach
|
| It’s hard to swallow your big bright pills
|
| The one I want to ask, how do you really feel?
|
| Can you dim the lights for just a few minutes?
|
| Lose the phrases, the overused snippets?
|
| You’re living among the grime and the soot
|
| A scene straight out of a Charles Dickens book
|
| Ain’t got no man to give you no love
|
| A kiss on the cheek, a welcome home hug
|
| You say you’re a poet but I’ve not read a line
|
| Just seen the notebook, the cover and spine
|
| You say you’re a poet but how much rhymes
|
| With everything’s perfect at all times?
|
| You left for Rome and Paris, France
|
| Came back home in a born again trance
|
| You met me for lunch, so late one day
|
| Out of breath with so much to say
|
| We sat down together and I stared at your phone
|
| I squinted hard but could not feel your tone
|
| I looked on at endless two-inch frames
|
| Thinking «Christ, they’re all the fucking same»
|
| What’s beneath your glow and your gleam?
|
| What’s not in the picture baby?
|
| Are there scars somewhere on your skin
|
| And are there more deeper you’re hiding?
|
| Tell me about when you were a kid
|
| Did someone you know drive off of a cliff?
|
| Did you get picked on by your big brother?
|
| What are you carrying? |
| What are you smothering?
|
| Is something crawling on you like bugs?
|
| Is something eating away at your guts?
|
| Is something slithering down in the drain?
|
| Is something swimming around in your veins?
|
| You say that you’re happy here in this place
|
| Staring off into internet space
|
| Trying to hit a magic button
|
| Wake up only next to no one
|
| Next to your laptop and your slick phone
|
| And your book of illogic poems
|
| You’re my friend and you know I love you
|
| Open up, babe, no I won’t judge you
|
| I’m an artist, it’s all that I’ve got
|
| I know when I see one and baby, you’re not
|
| A poet knows that not much rhymes
|
| With everything’s perfect at all times
|
| Say you’re a poet but I’ve not read a line
|
| Just seeing the notebook, the cover and spine
|
| You say you’re a poet but not much rhymes
|
| With everything’s perfect at all times |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Not Much Rhymes With Everything's Awesome At All Times, artist - Sun Kil Moon. Album song Among The Leaves, in the genre Инди