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