plainspoke – try to balance lyrics
you’re 28, 32, living in a basement, evading proof
you’ll maybe move, but never really
got big plans but you smoke away the feeling
filling up another cup to observe
if you spill the blood, does it make the city burn?
make the kitty purr in the morning and the night
do you wait up in the bar for that last call, like
every sip is relief, on your way to feeling great
every grip of the gl-ss make you feel real safe
every shit you take, give us information
frat boy of the nature, crave cases in his nation
patience, ain’t a virtue in his tool box
condoms, imitations and a bagel in a shoe box
ask how many d-cks to the center of the fusebox
he already did, halfway to getting new c-cks
new socks at a swap meet, rob me of these mother f-cking bocce b-lls
watch me, watch me, until the plot jumps, hopscotch and then you’re walking tall
talk to me like a b-tch on wheels, feel a little less than when i left for real
meals on these, digest what i deal, until its death by death, no difference when you keel
when you dead, you dead, its signed and sealed
by the bedside, i sign the dotted deals
teal colored dash for the dachshunds ashes
that’s so so for the fact those dashes
hook:
try to balance with a bird on either shoulder
one says f-ck you to the ballot, other tells you when you’re older
try to battle every challenge, but when it’s over, it’s over
try to paddle when the gallons are over, it’s over
v2:
follow the floaters in your eyes, suffice to say that they
divide the time like lace crochet, make a face and pay in change
i’m fine, shaving time one leg in a bind, put a brake on the line
don’t take what you find, confide in jay, says a little bit of j don’t done no harm
at arm’s length for the daylong maaco, wrong paint, wrong color but you pace slow
they show you labels, you sign at the dotted line for some pesos
but they don’t know you fake so, little late to the playground’s race show jangles
bo, came along with a cholo showed those thighs to the guys at the polo club
bolo tie with a rolled-up crime spree, newspaper beat to the rolo vine feed
confine me to the boat, both votes for my sea legs, these days i’m afraid to choke
show up to the potluck, no luck to speak of but you bring up all the c-chuck’s
be loved or eat cheetos, no need to be real when you clean up at debo’s
these roads are the needle mainlined, both hands to the vogue until the vein dries
follow all the signs until the boat floats in, gonna gloat when you row those golden limbs
when your goals fold in like a post hole dig, gonna show those lips in the photos since
done frodo, down low for the flow though don’t know if you broke or the broken’s in
hook:
try to balance with a bird on either shoulder
one says f-ck you to the ballot, other tells you when you’re older
try to battle every challenge, but when it’s over, it’s over
try to paddle when the gallons are over, it’s over
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