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