Lyrics Trite - Sage Francis

Trite - Sage Francis
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Trite, artist - Sage Francis. Album song Sick of Waiting Tables, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2000
Record label: Strange Famous
Song language: English

Trite

I’m having identity crises
«no we’re not.»
«yes we are.»
I’m having identity crises
«no we’re not.»
«yes we are.»
I don’t have a feeling that hasn’t been felt, feeling on my felt tip
Showing my hand… revealing what i’ve dealt with
And how i’m dealing.
cut the deck.
evenly distribute the pieces
Of shit talking during our disputes on weekends
We can sing along to each other’s song, right?
Even if the interpretation is wrong, right?
Just make sure you don’t bring the wrong mike
'cause i don’t care about meeting a boyfriend we can all like (nah!)
This song is called trite, hope ya like it
Could’ve substituted your name with the title but i decided that i’d keep it
private
Violent dream sequences just seem endless
I can see myself making a heated entrance
To your workplace with a smirk on my face
And a tongue in my cheek.
and a gun in my reach
Sneaking naked photos of myself under the seats of your co-workers
Putting a knife to your throat and screaming out «i won’t hurt her!»
They’re like, «let her go!»
And i’m like, «let her grow!»
Prisoners wouldn’t listen to this.
their rational side was out on a furlough
I like turbo-nuclear family affairs
I want a wife, a house, and two and a half mistresses to call when i’m not there
Then hang up the phone, and have my wife call up the phone company
And ask the phone company guy «why???»
And he’s like, «ma'am…well, maybe you just don’t know how to talk.»
And she’s like, «damn…well…wanna fuck me?»
«yeah of course.»
See?
case closed.
and he knows how to trace calls
So i can’t make cranks saying, «i hate ya’ll!»
I throw baseballs at my mirror, break walls a tear a-
Nother page out of my diary, throwing it from the eighth floor 'til i hear a
Pin drop.
unsuspecting pallbearers are in shock
They know i’m about to kill myself with a sling shot
They bring rocks for ammunition
Steal my lifetime magazines and then cancel my subscription
Their hands are just itching to scratch my clean records
My rap sheets are infected, now i can’t be president???
I just have to be elected!
i ask for just a second chance
The answer back was «kid, you never did in the first place.»
Speaking of that, give me my blue ribbons back and anything that is mine
Waiting for a nice guy who can’t make it to the finish line
When i die you won’t recognize the picture buried inside the obituary
But it’ll say, «bye, i miss you very much.»
I’m always one for last words at departing time
In a million years is when this dead star will shine
Say my fuckin' name.
nope.
say my fuckin' name.
nope
You don’t…know what to call me so you don’t
You don’t you don’t call me
You don’t you don’t call me

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Artist lyrics: Sage Francis