Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Vonnegut Busy, artist - Sage Francis. Album song Copper Gone, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 02.06.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Strange Famous
Song language: English
Vonnegut Busy |
The saddest are, «it might have been» |
Of all the words of mice and men |
The saddest are |
I like for my shoes to look like they’ve been walked in |
My house to look like it’s been lived in |
My car to look like a coffin that’s been driven off a cliff |
My career like a non-stop graveyard shift |
Don’t clean the crime scene cause time means money |
Don’t need visine when my eyes seem bloody |
I see dead people, but who doesn’t? |
We walk undercover, deadpan blending in with other human puppets |
Discussing nothing but the sports and weather |
If I stare long enough they all morph together |
Then I freak out, it’ll blow my cover |
So I just keep out, no, we don’t know each other |
I’m on the road to recovery, no GPS |
Hoist in my sails ‘till the sea breeze rests |
Suck wind if you wanna player hate |
Day to day I use my fear of falling asleep to stay awake |
I appear psychic-like, but I’m not a psychic |
You’re just predictable with no fight left to fight it |
If you write it they will come with a red pen and a tazer-gun |
Let’s do something |
I sift through the ashes in search of surviviors |
Digging up the Earth filling urns with dirt |
For what it’s worth I’m richer than the cemetary soil |
I use slant drilling to get my midnight oil |
I’ve been moonlighting as a daydreamer |
I’m at the wheel of an eight-seater, (hey) hey mister gatekeeper |
Call me key master, no, home owner |
One, two and to the three and to the foreclosure |
They said the war was over, but we know it wasn’t |
They wanted more soldiers so we said «sure, fuck it» |
Here’s a fresh batch of people with setbacks |
The poor folk, in fact they’re all broke cause of your debt traps |
Picking the pockets of people who probably needed assistance most |
Selling them lies, selling them out, sending them off to a distant coast |
Telling them anything anyone left with impossible debt is receptive to |
Breaking a promise of negative worth like «buddy there’s nothing left for you» |
Gotta buy buy buy to stay alive, they punish the payment delayed |
Then they charge you for the low balance then they ask «why didn’t you save?» |
Too long we took it on the chin, too long we took it to our grave |
Now we take what we can get, fuck an unlivable minimum wage |
Do something |
It might have been |
(Do something) |
It might have been |
Of all the words of mice and men |
The saddest are Vonnegut busy |
Do it, do it — mess up my mind (Vonnegut busy) |
Do it, do it — mess up my mind |
Sometimes I shoot myself in the foot, I put my foot in my mouth |
Clean it while it’s there, and then i suck the bullet out |
Reload the weapon, now that’s conservation |
Stay locked and loaded in a bad conversation |
He making blank statements like the circles of your ammunition’s finite |
Visionary nothing, you’re a man who lives with hindsigh |
Return to the hive mind and call me back |
I’m predicting early that you’ll be the Monday morning quarterback |
So, cocksure in a culture that gangs up on bully-types |
Mob mentality, as if that isn’t what a bully’s like |
Inspiration strikes like an union |
I write these lines just to cross 'em, I’m concluding |
If my mama don’t wanna she never has to work again |
You never asked me why I spread myself so thin |
I’m finna flirt dirty with the pen and flick my tongue on this bottom |
I promise writer’s block ain’t never been a problem |
I’ll probably make the columns wanna pop bottles of pain relief |
Sometimes it’s what you don’t say that says the most to say the least |
Idle feet are the Devil’s fetish club |
A highly exclusive spots none of us are members of |
Dante is a scrub — we kicked him out the van and steamrolled him |
In 2010 we had a couple dreams stolen |
Me and B. Dolan relocked and reloaded |
When it feels like you’re going through hell, keep going |
And as they say may the bridges that we burn light the way |
Do it, do it — mess up my mind |
Do it, do it — mess up my mind |
Vonnegut busy |