Lyrics Americana - Ruslan

Americana

This is my Americana
My version of honour, the feeling of you and the sonogram of your first
offspring
The offering of a man that’s tired of being a genre
My marriage, it won’t keep me high but in order
But to arrive as one routed 'cuz the son who rolled up
The sedative is a downer
Let it live, Dalai Lama
The medicine is alterative like Russians in a sauna
My Americana, preventative to the drowner, put on this life jacket and beat
them with the drama
Be done with the commas, ever made a point but appointments are for trauma
These aren’t political statements, the venom is ancient
The serpents jaw drops on the pavement
So I don’t have a soft spot for active passive off top and then trying to brush
over it like old men with their bald spots
So look, I got to hustle 8 to 4, they prolly think the first 4 to 8 of these
bars are really just metaphors about getting stoned and wasted and playing with
confetti more
I’m so cold with these raps I might as well be running a Yeti store
Oh you liked that, well there’s plenty more,
And any rapper can get it like any order
I’m the man of the house and they like Betty Ford, and I ain’t got no time to
be distracted and go on exploring
So what is the origin of oral sin
I’m redeeming the time and getting to know the soul within
It’s all a process
I need to be constant
Only so many options
To roll again
I’m home again
I’m in my zone again
Still believing the best is yet to come, I guess I got to roll up thin,
outside not houseless
My money where my mouth is
You been out with it 'cuz you were really about this
I said it
My Americana
My Americana, uh
This is my Americana
My Americana
My Americana, my version of the American dream, don’t believe what I hear,
and only half of what I see
That’s the spectacular sceptic in me
Living Vacula will only change if Dracula decides to empty it, envy running
through veins of conceit, I’m dead lost
Blood that was shed makes me look up to a red cross
That’s my oxygen, they keep mocking Him
But no one wants to walk a mile in those moccasins
I’m on and off again
I’m compromised, I’m confident the realer me is dominant over any façade that
is offered when defence mechanisms go off again
You’re gonna have to pardon him
I can’t help that in my heart our hearts are still artisan
I can’t help that when it comes down to it, I get the job done
I can’t help that I believe the only way to God is through God’s Son
I can’t help it if I lose some cool points of view points, I’m cool with it,
the new joint I’m fooling with is true joy, ha
My Americana
My Americana
My Americana, uh
This is my Americana
My Americana
This is my Americana