| I favoured being out of it
|
| But I got tricked by my tiny mind
|
| I didn’t want to sit here
|
| And loosen up to a rhythm I thought was tight
|
| I still want to be rid of it
|
| I favour being dumb
|
| I don’t want an awakening
|
| I don’t believe in fun
|
| I favoured being out of it
|
| But I got tricked by my tiny mind
|
| There ain’t no sun down there
|
| No breaks for all this kind
|
| There ain’t no filth in summer
|
| Where wheat grows from the shine
|
| What breaks the skin in this
|
| Of aging life’s true mist
|
| Of all the grief in bread
|
| The dough brings when it’s made
|
| The light gets faint and timely
|
| While you go out your mind
|
| The bus don’t smell of roses
|
| But the bins are always kind
|
| I’ll take it as it comes lit
|
| No change from whatever note
|
| These street lights are the pointers
|
| On the cold and quiet roads
|
| I favoured being out of it
|
| But I got tricked by my tiny mind
|
| I didn’t want to sit here
|
| And loosen up to a rhythm I thought was tight
|
| I still want to be rid of it
|
| I favour being dumb
|
| I don’t want an awakening
|
| I don’t believe in fun
|
| I favoured being out of it
|
| But I got tricked by my tiny mind
|
| I don’t wanna flip the page
|
| Of my negative script
|
| They cornered my young age
|
| And ran away with it
|
| I don’t wanna flip the page
|
| Of my negative script
|
| They cornered my young age
|
| And ran away with it |