Lyrics SEARCHING - Watsky, Mike Squires

SEARCHING

Hey, hey, it’s motherfuckin syndrome\nTrucking, been a minute since I been home\nStuck in memories that I can’t shake\nBut the same way daddy’s wedding ring’s ingrown\nThat’s how the microphone mesh is sewn in my own flesh\nProfessional roadie til I’m dead— Phil Lesh\nFilet on the grill but my gills still gasp\nGassed but I last cause the thrill’s not passed\nGotta write my will but I don’t make time\nCause I made a couple dimes off the way I rhyme\nSo there’s something in the bank for those left behind\nBut their last name won’t be mine, unless it’s mom and dad\nI used to think I was just Peter Pan\nSoon I’d go and grow up and be I’d be the man\nThe way I was supposed to be\nAnd I’d be living closer to the way the people close to me\nAre living but it’s long enough to know I see\nThis is who I really am, and it’s who I want to be\nAnd maybe I’m you’re an oddity but baby it’s your odyssey\nWhatcha looking for, baby whatcha looking for?\n(I'm not lost, I’m searching)\nWhatcha looking for, baby whatcha looking for?\n(Not sure, I’m not quite certain)\nTell me (tell me) Tell me (tell me) Tell me (tell me)\nTell me whatcha looking for, baby whatcha looking for?\n(I'm not lost, I’m just searching for you)\nThey’re out here kicking it, veggin\nThey got the tip in, they’re edgin\nLike Mormon, I’m performing like\n'He's fucking different, a legend'\nThe computers are putin' quicker than Putin is shootin\nIf you live to do numbers numbers’ll sip on your soup and\nI’m not dressed for a funeral shoot I’m having a hoot\nYou can call me a biscuit baby and butter my suit\nThe feed can come feed and start with my boot\nAnd we say: gimme the gimme the gimme the gimme the loot\nBut I can’t fit though needle eye on the camel I need to ride\nSo just feed me a Frito Pie and I’m eating, I’m Gucci\nCause I won if I got to love, and I got three squares\nFour walls and a roof