billy woods & kenny segal - waiting around lyrics
[verse 1: aesop rock]
uh
a hundred hours of balsam and cedar
await who follow the leader, who ain’t just follow procedure, i’m saying
i’m saying, i’m saying i was called to the ether, via receiver
not a piece of me is drawn to the theater
i was drawin’ and painting, recording songs in my bedroom
stuff i could never have conjured inside some alternate venue
when you was all in together, i wasn’t comfortable ever
and ultimately my value became the sum of these demos
they’re like my sons and my daughters
even the ones that were lemons
even the hundreds of sketches that ushered nothin’ but messes
when you was asking bout touring, i get the crux of the question
it’s just the bulk of the answer is of another dimension
if i close my eyes and think of reconstructing an essence that isn’t functional at present i can’t f+ck with the premise
it’s like the act itself would almost undercut the intention
if i show up for attendance, i’m just unplugging the message
tell me somethin, what’s a sheep when everyone is a shepherd?
or better yet, what’s a student who ain’t rough around the edges?
using music to confront the gunk that’s gumming up his engines
i ain’t judging, i ain’t nothing if not buffing out a blemish or ten
i’m really not some fish out of water as i don’t practice a discipline you can fit on a altar
it just don’t figure in at all to what the vision involved
dammit, jim, i’m a doctor, not another brick in the wall
[chorus]
waitin’ around, waitin’ around
[?]
waitin’ around
[?]
waitin’ around
[?]
[verse 2: billy woods]
in bruges with time to k!ll, but time musta knew and holed up somewhere it didn’t have to move
my room had a view, safe fulla euros, i miss having nothing to lose
twenty two, wanderin’ amsterdam, twenty two hundred in my shoe
jay+z in the discman, two grams in the ‘wood, toss it in the c+n+l if it starts to canoe
cannonball run, now it’s barely a splash in the hotel pool
the night was young, i sit in the corner and watch her move, spinning like vinyl
jumping out the groove, grassy gin winning over sweet vermouth
framboise, ginger root, mussels and pomme frites
confit leeks, feast like kongi’s harvest
an expatriate heard me speak american
5’3″, thick as congee, porridge
took a seat, immediately smelled weed
we smoked outside in the darkness of the eve, jaundice moon
she had perfect t++th, purple haze had your boy like, “come home with me”
she kissed my cheek, diplomacy
i walked cobblestoned streets alone, old testament stone
old poems just out of reach
congolese concierge fast asleep
big, lonely suite
from the tiny balcony, i watched my planes leave
[chorus]
waitin’ around, waitin’ around
[?]
waitin’ around
[?]
waitin’ around
[?]
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