Busdriver - Forlorn lyrics
You're living in a fantasy world putting gas in a pumpkin I never suit up or fasten a bu*ton Even when offered to dance in London I'm back in the dungeon lacking the funding to… Paint the town red on bail My monobrow's just like a monorail Girl you're a category 5, very awesome This is why we got married in Autumn But I'm hiding behind the cherry blossom You minus well just bury me in a coffin Yeah bury me in the cloud cover With a ledger full of loud colors ‘cuz I've been outnumbered They said “its your turn, take it away” My masterpiece, a paper mache Loaded gun aimed at a day k**ing me off in my favorite way Snapshots of my misery with slow shutter speed Most n***as they brush their steed, puff their weed but not me Sequestered in Birmingham while you're at burning man Listening to Birdy Nam Nam, acting like a girly man I'm more like early man Mixing colors for a cave painting But my safe haven's like a space station I never wanted a women who busted balls Or a lot of homies for trust falls Executive orders for tough calls are all mine What you suggest was pretty dumb My mind's full of undigested idioms That's why my hearts a congested city slum Chorus: There are constellations at my ceiling There are constellations at my ceiling You can Be what You want to be, you and You can Be what You want to be, you and You can Be what You want to be, you and You can Be what You want to be, you and Verse: (You crazy Driver) Like I'm tingling off of the Bath Salt Over-stimulated black adult Putting my eyes in a catapult But why would I need to see the stars? My mind's a sea full of stars (all of them) Invasive procedures get okayed It cuts a lot deeper than a close shave ‘Cuz social lubricants are roach spray And my center of gravity's a poached egg I'm blank, I can't sigh in relief My ego can hang glide on a leaf I don't recall having my hand held So I'm looking through all of my fan mail For a lady who can dance well Who's guaranteed to make my glands swell Or I'll hang up my point shoes when these twinkle toes tire And fix my point of view with needle-nose pliers Let the sheeple soak in fire as walking sleeping disorders I sleep in cocoons eat balloons and piss mortar