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plainspoke - imperfect high lyrics

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i’ve tried out every kind, in every place, and it don’t fit
so the fictions of my times, keep me phasing on shifts
from one ship to a rhyme, shuffle the sinks in my mind
doubling thrift flips like they gripping the grift of the primes

drifting from the line, i digress for the ninth time
for the lesser of the evils got me kneeled in a shrine
got me stealing people’s time, shaving off the spent seconds
so obsessed with the credit that i forget i got the line

and i’m treading in the water of the kiddie pool puddles
they say the dogs are giving birth, and this art is the reb-ttal
so all of a sudden the stars are muddled by the trouble
and it’s hard to see the sky, when the clouds are as blue as the bubble

it hurts to voice, when every argument is for the vowels
and each heart in this is looking for something that can’t be found
so i solve every mystery, the history is false
proving that i’ll never be a picture on the wall

hook
that perfect high got you upset and moving
running out of time, i will walk across the ruins
climb cuz you wanna see the view, but the truth is
you ain’t never gonna reach the summit of your hubris

verse 2
these epiphanies are lost in folding throwaway boats
poking holes in all the bottoms, so it looks like they float
piecing chips of these objects, better be shifts in the clothes
i feel the shivers, fishing options out of the scissoring souls

i pin decisions on the projects, better to rob them of prose
i bend the limits of pride in octaves, got the pin pr-cked on the stone
don’t read into the dry proctor’s, they pinch themselves to stay alone
i count the sheep to sleep just knocking on the wood i don’t know

i’ve gotten good at weaving meaning into meaningless drones
so don’t deceive yourself believing this is meaningful gold
i’m in the season of indecision, there’s no finishing those
so machinists of the prison, got the animals stoned

he’s drinking danimals, talking business, panhandling both
i’ll be back in just a minute once i’ve had all my shows
task him with the minutes, he forgets all he wrote
got the facts so diminished that they half of the slopes

- plainspoke lyrics

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