Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Threewrite, artist - Sage Francis. Album song Still Sickly Business, in the genre Альтернатива
Date of issue: 31.12.2004
Record label: Strange Famous
Song language: English
Threewrite |
The hands I’ve been trying to hold |
This is to the (uh-uh) love that I lost |
And all the troubling thoughts of how I got double-crossed |
And this is to the (uh-uh) divorce I was forced to settle with |
And the remorse I fought off with metal fists |
And this is to the (uh-uh) wet, watery kiss I left you with |
On your porch as I watched your trembling lips |
This is to the… memory of our early years |
The first girl I shared feelings with |
And it’s the realest thing I’d experienced in my short existence |
And I ain’t afraid to admit |
Cause love is one of the things that doesnt come with an age limit |
Now does it? |
In fact I’mma have to say I’m more keen to feel such things |
Hopeless things I’d lost in a smokescreen of meaningless fucking |
Touching without touching, candles in the dark |
Casting shadows on our parents battles, this is for the romantics at heart |
It wasn’t too long before I held you more then my pen |
When I wasn’t writing songs, it was something like |
«Forever and always, whenever those songs play…» |
I remember empty hallways |
Or your image that descended from the top floor became an echo |
I paid the price for those hard things, and couldn’t afford to let go |
From a passive debt, I’m past regret |
Did you know I dreamt about you before we met? |
Remembering our first kiss, and it hadn’t even happened yet |
Recollecting your scent, and I wasn’t even given the chance to forget |
I guess that’s the magic of it |
Now every rehashed subject’s displaying what I wrote |
On cafe napkins to the public |
To get it over and done with, closure hath cometh |
My shoulders are plummeted from holding these buckets |
Hold your laughs till I go back to the tunnels of Paris |
Where I wrote half of these paragraphs… but fuck it |
This is to my ten year story, in another decade |
You better be better prepared for me |
In the first four years, you were all ears |
Then for the next six, you left me for the next exit |
With depth to my message |
So that began my affair with the world abroad |
Behind the curtain with the other hurtful girls I explored |
Until I became the monster, turning to the words that I record |
Pardon me, if you heard it all before |
«I didn’t shake you to hurt you» |
When you landed on the floor |
In a room of naked virtues |
I closed my eyes to cancel what I saw |
Your hand made the first move to the handle of the drawer |
Where the frail girl couldn’t think to live |
«I didn’t shake you to hurt you» |
I never planned it before |
I can’t shake off your perfume, can’t wash my hands no more |
And I’m breaking my curfew, but I can’t walk |
I’m standing at the door, I hear the wailing of a little kid |
…and the failure of innocence |
His compromise eyeing the side of the kitchen sink |
What’you think, I just let you cut you, cut me-- cut the bullshit |
Damn, I love the hugs enough to tolerate |
The way we made each other crazy, making it so tough to operate |
Productively, my self esteem didn’t help when I felt ugly |
And I figured that’s the reason why you wouldn’t touch me |
My ego does bleed, I shouldn’t have let you test it |
And let your arms free to follow up with your domestic slip up |
Love is a battlefield so lick your shots quick |
While I lick my wounds and then resume as an obvious target |
Infatuations with the past protect my Purple Heart with |
A faded picture I had in my shirt pocket |
I’m going out with a bang. |
In a blaze of glory holes, the anti-hero |
I don’t care how many ways the story’s told |
Be careful when these doolies play like drums |
And watch what you foolishly say because my uzi weighs a ton |
This is to the sleepless evenings that I spent next to grave stones |
Hoping someone from beyond would grab my arm and take me home |
I hadn’t accepted I’d have to make it alone |
After feeding everything I had into a payphone |
And this is to the rain. |
I felt like it was made of spit |
My parade was an unbreakable chain of Gabe’s trumpets |
Save the buckets even though they weighed down my walking |
You don’t know the height of the steak you place your fork in |
You look old (that's what you said) |
I feel old (that's what I said) |
I been through a lot since you been gone, dead, born again |
Torn to shreads over girls who were porcelain |
The cry-baby dolls, when we were allowed to talk again |
I stopped accepting break-up calls (that ring true) |
I hate the way I fall for everything you do |
Our fate is flawed, that’s why I make these break-up songs to sing to you |
Music is my only psychiatric drug |
And you’re a pill in human form I’d like to hide under my tongue |
Kiss the foot that couldn’t fit into the slipper of my mouth |
The denizen in your house begging for the benefit of your doubts |
When I got kicked out, I played the faithful puppy dog |
Loyal to the love alost, sitting at your fucking door in utter disbelief |
I sucked all of the skin off of my teeth |
You pulled away, you let me choke on your invisible leash |
You can find me hiding these screams behind my eyelids |
She blinded me (she blinded me) with silence. |
So my air-mail lips blew her a fairwell kiss |
Slinking over the sink, where all the hair gel drips |
Stairwells dip deep into her mouth where I found a cycle |
And ever since then, I’ve been on a downward spiral |
This round is final, it’s time to recover |
Because it’s a porch that some dogs choose to die under |
The first song was a breakdown, I apologize in round two |
This version I’m certain, this shit ain’t even about you |
It’s the threewrite. |