1. |
The Cave Is a Metaphor
02:13
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The words yesterday
Don't carry the weight
Of what's on display
So I grabbed my spade and I
Dug my own cave
The walls give in
They crumble away
While the light escapes
Friction falsified
While I pretend that I'm not the guy
I'm not who I recognize
Covered from head to toe
With indigo
It's empirical
But I deny
Refuse to revise
Dug my own cave
All the walls
Give in
And they crumble away
Forever bound by old ways
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2. |
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On my couch I lie
The conversations in my mind rewind
And I cannot seem to find
The silver cylinder in my room
That I run to
When all my petals cease to bloom
The glass turns to glue
And so, I try
To pick up all the pieces of the puzzle
But I can't see right
And I
Am bound by the crushed up cans on the ground
The light blue wave of Busch Light
The silver cylinder in my room
That I walk to
When all my petals cease to bloom
The glitters turn to gloom
And yet
When I reflect upon the years gone by
I didn't even spend a week without getting high
But I guess, in retrospect
I never tried meth
Cause I don't really want to fucking die
The silver cylinder in my room
That I crawl to
When all my petals cease to bloom
The colors lose their hue
Drink 'til I puke
That's what I'll do
That's what I'll do
That's what I'll do
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3. |
Rueppelli
03:46
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Someone told me that it's nice up there
Would you be kind?
And offer a glimpse
So we can share the scene
Underneath the clouds you stare
The sights all mesmerize
But your height you misalign
Feathers flying everywhere
Daylight turns to flames
While your vision starts to fade
So now
I must ask of you
Just what is your cruising altitude?
Your cruising altitude?
Your cruising altitude?
I just want to fly with you
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grease weasel Brooklyn, New York
I record my music in my laundry room, and my only goal in life is to make music for you to wag your finger to.
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