Lyrics The Story of My Life - Astronautalis, P.O.S.

The Story of My Life

I was born in a box car
Color-blind, pigeon toed, pock-marked
Twisted figure, broken heart
They’d fixed up with monkey parts
(P.O.S.)
I was born in a four story roach motel
With floor to ceiling agitations
Wooden blocks and basic distaste for anything else
(Andy)
I was raised by a pack of wolves
Nursed in our nation’s capital
Taught to hunt and gather food
Howl at the moon in the reflecting pool
(P.O.S.)
I was raised by a slow jam
Two grizzlies for a mother who cared
Six packs of ramen, Nostradamus paranoia and fear
(Andy)
I fell in love with the flim-flammer
Charming con-artist, sexy counterfeiter
Pretty grifter, hidden ace switch making quick fingers
(P.O.S.)
I fell in love with the most beautiful vulture
She picked away my flesh, I’m left with skeletons
Welcome warm and tearing through like soldiers
(Andy)
And she gave birth to my only son
A smoking gun
Blue eyed, block chip
On the first warm day to end the ice age prospect
(P.O.S.)
And she gave birth to a lion-cub
It’s followed me for years now
I’m leaning by the A’s so I don’t peak
I know it’s chewing on my fingers while I sleep
I know it’s stupid but it keeps without a leash
And I’ve been trying to set it loose
It seems it’s freedom stripping me
So I treat it like what it is
I lay these eggshells to remember to be careful
(both)
You can find a swarm where the stingers hold back
You can find a warm spot in a cold snap
If you don’t scratch when the itches make you hair stand tall
It may shake you but you won’t fall
(Andy)
Justice can sleep for centuries
To wake when it’s least expected
I never seen miraculous deeds
Fall on those who expect them
Life ain’t a dream it’s just a string of jokes
All connected
There’s something beautiful to me
In the act of making your own death bed
(P.O.S.)
And we sung
We walk with smiles like chalk, quick to wash off
Suit and loose and unbuttoned like ready to draw
Love it raw 'till tender is far too fierce for us
Winter is almost here for us, and like July
Hard to find tracks when it’s buried under so much decay
Hard to find trail when it’s buried under what’s paved
This is the story of my trial by erosion of words
Simple what’s right like who’s just being polite
(both)
You can find a swarm where the stingers hold back
You can find a warm spot in a cold snap
If you don’t scratch when the itches make you hair stand tall
It may shake you but you won’t fall down
(Andy)
You can find a swarm where the stingers hold back
You can find a warm spot in a cold snap
If you don’t scratch when the itches make you hair stand tall
It may shake you but you won’t fall down