Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Achilles and the Tortoise, artist - Buck 65. Album song Man Overboard, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 07.10.2002
Record label: Buck 65
Song language: English
Achilles and the Tortoise |
This collection of sketches, rough and scattered, is arranged by instinct. |
There’s entropy at work, but mostly it happened by accident |
Sure a story goes with this, but for it to make sense you’d have to be me, |
And for it to make dollars I would have to be something I despise, |
Don’t ask me how I managed, no one gets paid to make change, |
Every morning I salute the flag, turn, grab the fingers of my left hand behind |
my back and continue my search. |
I’m wondering how I got here, |
Who besides me is responsible? |
I’m not the young man I was when I first wrote the code, |
Now I dont have it in me to fuss over much. |
I need sleep… more than ever before. |
What remains of my violence is so precious that I keep it all of it to myself. |
What frightens me most now is my gradual loss of hearing. |
So i’m guided more and more by vibes. |
I shield my eyes from flickering images and document my dreams with as much |
detail as possible. |
I figure I’ll write my book when its all I can do, but I don’t know. |
Have you any idea how hot these sands are? |
Ya, i come in contact with the odd scavenger here and there, but those |
encounters rarely amount to much |
I just gaze the same few black and white photographs: |
Distant loves, long lost souls. |
diamonds of my most glorious moments, |
I remember the gold rush |
Ya, she makes me laugh now to think of the risks I took |
The monuments will remain, and thats all that matters but the question always |
becomes: |
'Am I happy?' |
When young, we mourn for one woman, |
When we grow old, for woman in general, |
The tradgey in life is man is never free, |
Yet strives for what can never be, |
The thing most feared in secret, always happens: my life, my love, |
where are they now? |
But the more the pain grows, the more this instinct for life somehow asserts |
itself, |
The necessary beauty in life is giving yourself to it completely. |
Only later will it clarify itself as not coherant |
I wandered the fields and listen for the sound of drums |
The colder the ground becomes the closer I get I home |
The planets not fit to roam but with all the chaos |
But, when I saw the savages I played the law of averages |
And when the river splits in half, I start to lose my wits and laugh |
And cry at the same time, there’s nothing I can do about it |
Even though I wouldn’t doubt it, if the winds began to blow |
And carry the sounds of my voice to the lands below |
So I put my hands around my mouth and hollered to the sunken city |
That, wallows in the filth of its own drunken pity |
And wait to see a signal but a signal is never seen |
Eventually fatigue builds inside me exponentially and so I sleep |
And dream that I’m able to fly |
«They will respect a man with wings!» |
Later I awake, in agony and learn |
That while I was sleeping the city had burned |
Shrugging my shoulders, I paused and gathered thoughts |
Think twice about staying put, then decide I rather not |
So I press on in my agnostic pilgrimage |
Knowing that I can swim deeper than the grim reaper |
Ready for whatever sea creatures may abound |
When the water swallows me and not the other way around |
Survival saw me through the mechanical district |
Starvation leads to being cannibalistic |
I have to rely on cons and silence and non talking quick |
Defending myself with nothing but this walking stick |
I’ve never had friends and no parental guidance |
I’m wild at heart and weird on top, I’m feared nonstop |
Even though my rage is worn out |
My life’s a book with several pages torn out. |
I just climb trees and look for rhythm everywhere. |
I used to be the town crier in a city of stone throwers |
Until my soul was laid bare and displayed in the pearled square |
Ignored, more than a lot, not less, no one understood my thought, process |
I was gagged and bound over noise complaints |
But, commanding the resolve that destroys constraints |
I found my escape in a melding of memories |
The next thing I know, I’m rowing this boat |
And blowing this note on an old tarnished trumpet |
(Pause for trumpet sample) |
Ever since then I’ve been wondering lots |
Watching the sky and pondering thoughts |
Strange angel, music box genie |
Behind for some time and now I’m blind in one eye |
And how this happened exactly will never be known |
My thoughts take the shape of the hang-man's house |
Never fails in time-traveling salesman visiting |