Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Directions to my special place , by - Themselves. Release date: 21.11.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Directions to my special place |
| Hi, my name is… |
| My interests are… |
| Hobbies… |
| Oh, sacred envelope of exploration… |
| Glistening ordinary, grant me |
| A winged mare or solid ground |
| And personality split |
| For it’s been a ghastly reflection. |
| unique |
| And reminiscent of nightmares I can’t escape |
| To disfigure a blurry glance at time of night |
| A glow the me I loathe, compose |
| And turn off to phase throughout has |
| «good friend who» |
| So many playmates that had loved |
| To hold my magnificent crum |
| And save its succulence from back injury |
| I’ve eroded the shared experience |
| Consistently… cradles fall |
| I’m think of a number from one to lonesome… |
| Fault fault everywhere |
| And not a single soulmate to spoon or go back and forth with… |
| I’ve torn them all to exorcists |
| Hi, my name’s in public… |
| Excuse my slant… |
| Has showed me how to spell |
| Welcome mat with a w-h-o-i-a-m & I |
| Take a stepping on purpose like a man |
| Who’s shrinking head |
| Is still a big effort, deal, and pursuit |
| Of… I've won, and all these women make me sick |
| So my spoils are shiners or regret |
| The stormy gray ribbon thus… therefore…and then |
| With a pin point poking my chest |
| I startle does and falsify confidence to change… to change… |
| Slowly but surely… |
| The lies I’ve told personify general sympathy |
| And his platoon of stupid things to do |
| My full name… |
| Let distance play the role of time and difference |
| Glad to be of service… |
| Risk averse is my favorite color |
| And limb to crawl on outfitted for perversion |
| Enduring… I've managed to overdress for dharma… |
| The tour of our spiraling universe |
| And suffer in a congested clammy-handed manner |
| So who’s the old shot blood-dripping man’s face |
| I’m slated to grimace as |
| Any suggestions… |
| Mr. id says don’t worry |
| Finish this now porridge before it cools |
| And remember above all your dyslexic |
| Sound advice… but still I’m hung up on hang-ups |
| And exhausted beyond the haven of endangered mystery-man |
| In the round strikes a pose |
| And tries to return truth from a bound world (for life)… |
| Reading into trivial and man’s endless pursuit of absolute stuff… |
| Custom-made to fit has simplified exception… |
| Accepted the war, the savior, the Saturday morning cartoons |
| This fish bowl |
| All convince an unconscious sense of perspective |
| That natural will thin my blood |
| And capture me and knock me up |
| And color coordinate love. |
| no more… |
| No desire, no bed time, no venue… |
| It’s the pattern my cycles adhere to… |
| These peaks and valleys I call home and stand for… |
| It’s hard, it’s natural |
| It’s only the beginning to fear death… embrace occurrence |
| Heal… to heal… to be the first one to heal |
| Is to wake and let artificial |
| The totem pole of rolls and norms is collapsed upon itself |
| Until we all care… no one will… |
| Until we all… no one will |
| Dose will… request… |
| Feel these pieces of me as I would all of you… |
| Until we meet… directions to my special place… come hither |