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replicator (of futurology) – gabbermouf lyrics

[verse 1]
here we go again, take one hundred and one
feeling dumb and numb as f-ck so take the money and run
coulda sworn i was living a life with integrity
steadily determined to tread a path into destiny
but instead any mention of principle was remedied with some rotten substance that turns it all into the bitterest memory
too heavy, run for the feelings ‘cause the last time we went toe to toe i was left reeling
i’m adept to keeping everything close to the chest, ’til the prose i’ve wrote in half jest choke to my neck
can’t address the finer details of the art i create
not quite art for art’s sake, just second nature that sets its own pace
all hope erased for better [?]
i’m tryna stay strange instead of develop a [?]
grown to accept that i won’t ever live a normal life
and now all that sits in front of me is time, so i just write…

[hook]
with nothing in my bank account
i am living without a profound
and even when i shout, it makes no…
just f-cking get out ‘cause

there’s nothing in my bank account
and i’m living without a profound
and even when i shout, it makes no sound
so just f-cking get out

[verse 2]
gift of the gab — ha, hardly
[?] life of the party so f-cking pardon me
blaze me a trees in an equatorial forest fire
caution mired in dire straits, a hankering i can get paid to spit rhymes
nah, better luck next time
keep flexing that mind but you can’t exercise any power
just a steady coward paid by the hour to devour
[?] caught in their right mind would do it for sovereign
i’m too common, the most vanilla of average
no savage enough to practice malice
too reserved or pensive to act sensitive
i guess i’ll go mention-less just like you
[?] tends to the drugs and booze in empty rooms
and pen about a million tunes with roughly the same template
subject matter either inflated ego or a feeble sense of self crushed under the weight of the world
let me out
i just wanna drown in a mountain of my own lyrics
no gimmicks
i’m just shedding everything except spitting this set-shifting
but i’m getting sick of tryna grit through all this twisted industry business
so can i live?
aye, but the proper term is subsisting, in a white room with no rhythm and everyone’s distant
here’s wishing i can break out of this prison, only to realize it formed the better half of my existence

[hook]
and there’s nothing in my bank account
i am living without a profound
and even when i shout, it makes no…
so just f-cking get out…

- replicator of futurology lyrics

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