shureshot hypothesis – downhome lyrics
[chorus]
as the days go by and i die and i dream
my pen paints a scene. picture perfect, serene
ever a fiend for nostalgia, i mean;
i close my eyes and my mind becomes a time machine
(and i)
[intro]
steal a gl-ss of the past when it hits me
like old kentucky straight bourbon whiskey
steal a glance because i know it’s risky
to spend my present trapped in a history
oh may it be always with me
don’t forsake me and don’t forget me
lift me up, up above this mystery
fly me highly and fly me swiftly
back where the sess and the blessed bliss be
gone with the bottle of bourbon whiskey
(long)
[verse 1]
before my lostness was accosted by me loving endo
it was hardest to stifle the cycle of cartridges put through the nintendo
the possibilities were impossibly endless
no responsibilities, no m-th-f-ckin’ consequences
mustached plumbers were world cl-ss jumpers and fought
to spot psilocybin locked in question marked blocks
boy robots with glocks had buster shots for days
dead rise from graves
h-ssled by castle mazes until dracula’s slain
interstellar alien bounty hunters disguised
in sp-ce suits so you couldn’t guess the s-x of whose inside
i’d hack a way through dungeons
hunted and confined
but once the forces of power wisdom and courage combine
all minds will flourish in a time of duress
and the princess returned to her throne rest -ssured
invincible dogs defied laws and had such luck
his wrath: he’d point and laugh every time you missed a duck
unloadin’ at the screen it seemed the bullets never stuck
scanlines, static, and weird patterns. freeze up
yo, what the f-ck!
[verse 2]
lookin’ back fondly on good times at grant street
jam with the band where the clan understands me
never had a plan, let alone a plan b
just sittin back and sippin on the lemons life hands me
so here stand i, on the sweeter side
of the solstice, watching my sweet summer die
when sweet summer’s over and the sweet sun subsides
dream of, summers to come and of summers gone by
(and we were)
troddin through the lowland
foothills and the corn
(biddayagayo)
goin to the mountains
sun is shinin on a frosty morn
(and i would say)
i’m a child of the country
i’m a rider on the storm
(but at least i know)
roots grow deep in the blood red soil
to the hard stone hills, i was born
where i could build you a shelter with duct tape and thumbtacks
back where backwoods means much more than blunt wraps
oversized tires and over stacked gun racks
headed to the hills i ain’t never gonna come back
[outro]
so here stand i ‘pon the sweeter side
of the solstice, watchin’ that bitter winter die
when the bitter winter’s over i, the sweet summer find
that the winters to come are but the summers that have died
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