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swordplay – i barely know how to dress myself lyrics

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tell me
what is it that you find in the tiny wardrobes of your existence?
is it a silk robe sewn with time?
or dusty laces?
faces covered in the pride of coal mines
otherwise soon to becomes traces of the resistance?

me, i pay no mind to bow ties tied round the necks of alcoholics
no cash money in their leather wallets
pull yourself up by your own rolex
i’m sorry i can’t help you
i would if i could
but i barely know how to dress myself

and i don’t dress up for death chants
so i show up to oci wearing a pair of sweat pants
no internal time urgency
i leave the public interest behind me
personally, i am interested in making 180 or maybe 190
f-ck it, why not 225?
i’ve benefited from privilege, now i’m at the top of the economy
though i’ve spoken to those below me back at the colonies
i work within that dichotomy whereas
you disappear inside theory and can only regurgitate your favorite european philosophy

my autobiography will be in at least three languages
i am an arabic grammar champion. i get paid to make sandwiches
i’m slinging syntax back with the emcees next to me
complexity doesn’t bother me
but i barely know how to dress myself

i make a pretty good refrigerator poetry nonsense
and i can think in abstract concepts
i’m undefeated in mortal kombat
24/7 contact customer service expert
just seeking to apply myself

i split infinitives wherever i please
and i make up adjectives
it’s a hyper-complexative hobby of mine, but i find it inadequate
to effectively demonstrate my sk!ll
cos at the end of the day i still
i still barely know how to dress myself
i thank god that at the very least i know how to pray for myself
1-800 numbers still stuffed into my pockets
i take a picture and i crop it
p-ssed away loved ones in my little locket attached to that necklace
i’m a limited-edition nexus 6 prototype the way i’ve been instructed to wreck this sh-t
you’re intoxicated at breakfast
you drive away in a lexus
your sideview might be exactly what my u-lock might mess with
motherf-cker, i barely know how to dress myself

my cognitive capacity at an all-time high
whereas every last neuron of yours has gone awry
your creeks have all run dry. i’m swimming in the ocean
not a modic-m of regret in my body, except that the water is frozen
and i swallowed the wrong dosage
way past metamorphosis. no performances
not even an attempt at any resemblance of choruses
my hearing is fine
my vision, like an nsa satellite in orbit
i am still 64-bit
i just barely know how to dress myself

and in international airports, i observe convention
and the jet lag does not affect me
because i make it a point to not malfunction
though i barely know how to dress myself



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