Sage Francis - Days Grow Old Lyrics
Build up your saliva and get ready to kill the fireSpit in the face of figure heads, give 'em a taste of the shit I saidBuild a place for children to escapeThe inbred human race of living deadbeatDads milking the motherless childcare systemLet the sleepers have another nightmare from Christian conservativesThey don't fight fair and any religion would murder kidsIf they don't quite care about the conditionOf the prison where we're serving bidsOnce I escape my skin cell I won't be banging on the bars of soapThat I dropped into my living hellThe seemingly indestructible knuckles of my fists are cleanKeeping eyes wide open and bulging out like Mr. BeanMisdemeanors made to look like felonies, the prison queenIs existing in his own filth and feeling no guilt it seemsIt's a dream with cheetah speed we're chasing afterSome are running quickTrack teams want me to lead but face the factY'all can't catch up to it, pace at your own pace on this race trackYou'll eventually get lapped on your last leg while stretching my aggression is just a lack of serotoninPlug the jack of your telephone in to the wallSo I can call your bluff just to say what's up, how ya doin'Now I've ruined the beautiful sound of silenceWon't get quiet until the voices in my head come down with laryngitisTalking, talking, talking, talking, so much to say, so little sense to makeBedposts get chopped off once innocence gets rapedClose the curtains and drapes, pull down the blindsCover your ears, block your nose and mouth, shut your eyesThere's a black box in my head which is actually readWhen I crash and burn it keeps a record of every last word I saidIt goes "one" for the finger, *****, two for the peace sign3 strikes, you're out, Casey's at bat with unloaded guns in his mouthAs the day grows oldWe pave this roadWhen we take controlWe will save your soulAnd it burns just like that famous ring of fireSing to inspire, try to loosen up the dirt that clings to the tiresEstablish some traction, lingering behind the curtain of satisfactionI'm certain of nothing, Mr. Knew it allLate for my disorientation, fate glued to the wallThe pain felt could make the brain meltHeard the shackles on the ankles, mistook the sound as slay bellsRemember that song called big pimpin'?It made me want to dance around but I had no type of rhythmThen I thought I should write a song called sick pimpin''Cause I know a lot of beautiful psycho inspiteful womenNow I'm that cat that tiptoes on this padsWith the gauze on track and so as not to cause damageHello, Miss Management, time decision making processTrying to catch the breath I couldn't find 'til I lost itStand upon a rock I couldn't climb if I triedWith a fist full of issues, a bag full of prideWell alright, I'ma write all the problems on the boardIf anyone can answer 'em, I'll let them drive my FordI quit searching for the truth 'cause the truth can changeIt all depends on how the furniture's arrangedIf you don't take a moment to sit in the chairThen there wasn't any point of ever puttin' it hereAnd I'm lovin' every minute as the day gets vividWhile I'm twistin' up the lyrics of existenceAnd it goes, one for the wife and two for the houseThree strikes, you're outNow please remove my life from your mouthAs the day grows oldWe pave this roadWhen we take controlWe will save your soul
