lt headtrip – dusty lyrics
dusty had a big heart
dusty had to go
dusty had to work five doubles in a row
dusty had a big sis
used to bring him blow
he had a lot of fun, and he didn’t like it slow
he was runnin on a full ‘script, never skipped a dose
would travel to america when he was getting low and i trusted he was fine but i couldn’t really know
see, dusty had a history of losing all control
dusty had a lock box stuffed full o’ cash that he made on his feet when he busted his ass
loved what he did, he made his customers laugh but he couldn’t ever satiate the monkey on his back
he didn’t really smoke much. only when hе drank
he never got stonеd drunk, only most days
he usually woke up to some whip its and some yay then would make a few mistakes after workin’ all day
dusty had a sense of loyalty that i admired. he hooked up his friend with a boy who he desired ‘cause they made a good fit and he thought they deserved it
or maybe dusty never really felt like he was worth it
see he made a lot of dollars but he couldn’t find his path
the water locked wanderer kinda felt trapped
in bed with his shoes on, laid out on his back like, “quiet! shh. i need to take a nap.”
it goes, wake up, dose. clock in, hustle
money ain’t a thang if you gettin’ it in bundles
cake up, close. clock out, rage
spendin’ what he made like, “money ain’t a thang.”
it goes, wake up, dose. clock in, hustle
more money, more drugs, more trouble
cake up, close. clock out, crash
“quiet! shh. i need to take a nap.”
okay dusty was a bit much. he skipped lunch for the tips,. yup, hustle and still crush the dinner rush. flipped the six top quick. pickin’ shifts up when anybody wanted to get lit
and he worked like a dog. worked like a mule. he lived for his job. his body was a tool. he felt like cog but he liked getting used so long as he could keep buying fuel
it’s cool
then one night he knocked out, work clothes on. nothin’ new. dead phone with his pulse goin’ strong. see that big old heart of his didn’t wanna quit. it felt trapped, a bit like dusty did. so it snapped some ribs back and ripped through the flesh. dropped a fat sack of yip in his chest. stitched him up, threw the kicks on fresh, and headed into town so it could paint the city red
the pub was poppin’. the club was louder. forgot his wallet so he snuck by the bouncer
the subs were knockin’. the floor was crowded
nothin’ in his pockets ‘cept dusty’s powder
a generous organ, he made friends quick with stupendous portions and relatable wit. he pumped his aortas while they pumped their fists and he dumped his blood on the floor. don’t slip!
sh+t, it isn’t often that a heart gets a chance to have a night on the town and show off some of his rad moves. gettin’ a little sloppy. soggy little dance shoes. nothin’ he won’t try. nothin’ he can’t do
dancin’ awkward, laughin’ hearty. last call now. where the after party? still gotta unclog some of these arteries then get back to dusty ‘fore his double tomorrow so he accepts an invite to a boat in the harbor where they rage into the night and the bros act harder than they really are. can’t turn down a card game and, f+ck it, bets the rest of his powder to get started
three rounds in and he’s bankin’, rakin’ in the cash. chips stacked. royal straight in his hands. captain thinks his tell is a palpitation, so he fakes it, nails it, but cap gets mad. he says, “who the h+ll let this ringer of a bloke into my poker room? let alone my boat. throw him overboard.”
he grabs his earning and escapes unharmed
a little hemoglobin in the great salt pond
luckily he floats and his back stroke’s strong
makes it back home. your mans still zonked
pulls the little baggy out the cavity, yawns and hops back in dusty’s chest with his dance shoes on
it goes, wake up, dose. clock in, hustle
money ain’t a thang if you gettin’ it in bundles
cake up, close. clock out, rage
spendin’ what he made like, “money ain’t a thang.”
it goes, wake up, dose. clock in, hustle
more money, more drugs, more trouble
cake up, close. clock out, crash
it goes wake up, dose. clock in, hustle
money ain’t a thang if you gettin’ it in bundles
cake up, close. clock out, rage
spendin’ what he made like, “money ain’t a thang.”
wake up, dose. clock in, hustle
more money, more drugs, more trouble
cake up, close. clock out, crash
“quiet! shh. i need to take a nap.”
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