Buck 65 - Blood, Pt. 2 lyrics

You're not bloody swab paradise You're golden stars licked to stick A world with frogs and magic tricks Floating logs and scissor kicks And lemonade and sweaty s** Hug me like I gave you checks You kiss me like the upper crust Tell me things to make me blush Champagne bottle, bon voyage A souvenir garage A melody to make me smile Not that you've been gone a while A purple medal eighth place Backlit in a trophy case Sign that says "For little Ace" Supportive like an ankle brace Not bloody cotton swabs and lies Stolen checks and empty eyes You're a county fair in July Canadian field of wild rye You kiss me like potted plants Bite me like fire ants Touch me like an old stamp Olive oil and seven lamps Not stolen cash I'll pay you back Bloody paradise attack Your Sunday at the puppy track Time to take the long way back Sweet as the apple of Peru The inklings of the Eastern Sioux Not bloody cotton swabs and lies Stolen checks and empty eyes But rather... You are the blood flowing through my fingers (That's what I meant to say Blood in my fingertips I couldn't tell you that it's the other way) All through the soil and up in those trees (You are the blood that I may see you That I see you You're the blood in me You're on earth though) Girl you wake me to the smell of bu*ter Sunlight shone through wooden shutters Naked s** and cuffed breast Early morning back to test Pouring rain and rubber suit Cotton socks and rubber boots I sprint across the parking lot 'Cause that day we were unprepared Dried our socks and on the stairs Sound of rain is rain in gutters Lightning seven seconds thunder A mild snack late evening hunger DVDs and VCRs Fish tanks and jelly jars The storm pa**es the room ours The summer times and you move Safety belt in summer cars Lightning bugs to die in jars The air conditioner saving grace Gra** stains and flushed face Refreshing like a gla** of milk Your shaven legs were like silk You kiss me like a bon voyage A secret souvenir collage Overalls and water parks T-tops and baby sharks Dragon rolls and frozen juice Making out in photo booths A lovely Saturday night alone Full of films and baking pies Not cotton swabs and bloody lies I'll pay you back in plastic eyes You are the blood flowing through my fingers (You are the blood in my fingertips The soil up in those trees Like electricity Like sound, like lights) All through the soil in those trees (You are the word I shall write You are solitude You are electricity You're light)