Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dreams & Boxes, artist - Watsky. Album song Placement, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 05.03.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Symmetry Unlimited
Song language: English
Dreams & Boxes |
I never really had the guts to look under that log |
I need them all, all, all to love me |
But they see through me so easy |
I wish I could believe in your God |
Sounds fun! |
We could throw rocks out of heaven |
I get these dark thoughts every day now |
I never thought I’d be that one |
Good news I’m way too scared to do it |
And I have too much fun being scared |
I’m in this for life |
Like it or not |
I’m not going anywhere, anywhere |
I’m in this for life |
Like it or not |
You will have to drag me by the neck |
I’m not gonna bail |
Writing on the ceiling of the box while the coffin the nailed |
California dreamin while the demons are hot on our tail |
Hop a curb, yes that was me offa the trail officer |
No, I don’t have a good reason |
I was just in a mood to go seeking |
Heard a hard poem, it had my heart thumpin |
Start my blood pumping again |
This one is for the people who raised me up |
It’s for the people who raised me up |
If you remember one thing then remember how it felt |
When you felt for the first time |
This one is for the people who raised me up |
It’s for the people who raised me up |
If you remember one thing then remember how it felt |
I’m in this for life |
I’m not going anywhere, anywhere |
I’m in this for life |
Drag me by the neck |
You want your holy grail |
Try not to overthink it |
I try but always fail |
But I want it so damn bad |
I’m addicted to life |
If I lived how I thought that you want me to live |
I don’t think you’d like what you got |
If I shot my poetry out of a cannon |
Would it make it any better? |
If you fill a gun with glitter |
What’ll become of the bullet |
If you’re only suffering under a vail |
I’m in this for life |
Like it or not |
I’m not going anywhere, anywhere |
I’m in this for life |
Like it or not |
You will have to drag me by the neck |
This one is for the people who raised me up |
It’s for the people who raised me up |
If you remember one thing then remember how it felt |
When you felt for the first time |
This one is for the people who raised me up |
It’s for the people who raised me up |
If you remember one thing then remember how it felt |
I dreamed I understood myself completely |
We were having a party in a house falling out of the sky |
Every clique showed up |
The ones who love the small of gasoline |
The shy beautifuls |
The microphone eaters |
The gimme gimme gimmes |
The maybe next years |
The boring childhooders who trashed their lives for fun |
The house rotated as it made it through a storm, |
Eyeball-sized hail sailed sideways through the windows |
As the single pane, survived-the-great-fire hundred-year-old glass all smashed |
We laughed and dropped the hailstones in our drinks and danced |
We started chanting some optimistic that we knew that it was maybe mostly |
bullshit |
But that if we even still felt one tenth of one percent how we felt in that |
moment in the morning that it would be an energy could shake neighborhoods from |
their foundations |
We dragged ourselves on a twenty-mile mission to fill our goblets in the kitchen |
Got stopped by a hallway goblin named Frank who said he once dreamed Karl Marx |
and Rosa Parks were beating the shit out of him which gave him a full body |
orgasm |
I told him my dad analyzes dreams for a living and believes they’re portals to |
the subconscious |
I don’t judge you we’re all weirdos, |
My dad still refuses to drive beamers because they made cars for Hitler |
But I always suspected that was convenient logic for a family that could only |
afford used station wagons |
I told him in a drawer in my house I found a matchbook from my dad’s 1955 Bar |
Mitzvah |
It still has nine dry unused matches that haven’t been torn from the cardboard |
It’s a time machine and remains my second most precious possession |
Do you understand this Frank? |
You’re in presence of a motherfucker who owns |
fire from the past |
Can you imagine getting high with a flame from 1955? |
Can you? |
Do you feel connected to your ancestors? |
Do you? |
Do you ever feel strange? |
Wonder how the world’s gaze has shaped you? |
Do you fear being shaken by the shoulders like an etch a sketch |
Being mugged for your memories? |
I do |
They are my first most prized possession |
My very first memory was sitting in high chairs with my brother the day the Bay |
ripped in two |
The earthquake shook the china from the shelves and we clapped because we |
didn’t understand |
I told him my mother’s father died in a plane crash |
I told him my brother grew up to be a pilot |
The captain, which apparently the apparently the building had and was my |
brother, came over the intercom, which apparently the building had, |
and alerted the party that house was starting the spin faster and soon it |
would be time to hit the ground, so either buckle your seatbelts say your |
prayers or find someone to fuck |
It was all true, China was smashing against the ceiling |
Me and Frank said our goodbyes easily once I realized I’d been having a |
conversation in the mirror. |
I climbed out a window and hung onto a drain pipe |
and watched the stars paint the sky |
Little boxes |
On the hillshide |
Elbows ass and my knees and toes |
I got my elbows ass and my knees and toes |
Little boxes |
On the hillshide |
Elbows ass and my knees and toes |
I got my elbows ass and my knees and toes |
I see the ghosts on every corner |
Of the people that we used to be |
So many that they sit upon the shoulders |
Of their brothers and their sisters |
While our city slips into the sea |
Danny in DC Tee getting stomped in the head on Clement St |
Kids in the black boots |
Dad’s got the long hair, dad’s hired, getting fired |
Everybody waveMe in the ambulance! |
Mom’s got my pills in the paper bag, bills on the table |
That was before they were really real people |
And the punks grabbed my bike in the Safeway parking lot |
Chased em for five blocks, never got it back |
We were already fading I just didn’t know it yet |
Holding onto the lie of my perfection tucked under my arm like a late |
Blockbuster cassette |
And fuck yeah I was hard for miss popular |
Been jockin her but she couldn’t see where I sat with binoculars |
Binaca stashed in my pocket, shot the good shot, the good lord, she blocked it |
Cherish the small the tragedies |
The big ones are smoking out in the bathroom and loitering for the moment when |
nobody sees em coming, an opening they can jump in make a total catastrophe |
My family tried to hold it together |
But now that we can’t hold it together |
We hold each other closer instead |
Danny in the deep blue Sea getting wasted on the MUNI out to DP |
Kids with the tall cans |
Dad’s got the short hair, dad’s not retired quite yet |
Every wavebodyMe in the ambulance! |
Mom’s plays guitar and she sings to us near to us |
That was before we were really real people |
And the Punks grabbed my bike in the Safeway parking lot, |
Chased em for five blocks, never got it back |
Little boxes |
On the hillside |
There’s a blue one and a yellow one |
And they all look just the same |