the library steps - lush karma lyrics
sometimes i’d try to tell them something and they wouldn’t listen
not with a bang, but with a whimper, though
my inner glow is down to cinders. my winter coat
has silver tape to mend up the little holes
there’s a twenty-sided die in one sleeve
how it got inside, i’ll never know
the coat is old enough to vote in the federal
the stove is cold cause no one is ever home
my letter opener is broken, i’m left pushing the envelope
i endeavour to let her know what i never said and let it go
i mumble algorithms and the subroutine listens
i’m uncle alvarez when the drum machine kicks in
under pressure like a submarine captain’s cabin
after a accident, with p-ssengers panicking
i’m the manager managing with little or no firm support
all i can do is just fiddle while rome burns
no kidding though, kid, i’m a old person: mopey
mcmoperson, quoting verse from a ghost i’m the broke version of
this is the soundtrack to my second adolescence
this is the side of bed that i wake up on
not to be clinical but this is my depression
not to be cynical but every love song is a breakup song
this is the soundtrack to my second adolescence
this is the side of bed that i wake up on
not to be clinical but this is my depression
not to be cynical but every love song is a breakup song
i’m so glad to be with you today
i have the feeling that you like me
you like the way i talk and the way i look
and you know that i like you, too
in like a lamb, out like a lambchop
the prestidigitator, handy with a handjob
standoffish, can’t profit from planned obsolescence
i’m the guy that sucks and got depression
taught the lesson, those who can’t. not the best in the land
opposite. fans got abandoned, man, stop projecting
got the medicine, d-mn! doctors hate him, godforsaken
can’t stand how he rattle his rants off verbatim, unh
got complacent, occupational hazard, or
if you rather, rather a hazardous occupation, yeah
no, i’m not having this conversation, i’m talking here
the rocketeer crossed with a auctioneer
it’s rotten. i’ve forgotten the plot’s thread
i misheard the word that was not said
my sermon is nonsense, serving is a permanent process
i haven’t found the kernel of thought yet
this is the soundtrack to my second adolescence
this is the side of bed that i wake up on
not to be clinical but this is my depression
not to be cynical but every love song is a breakup song
this is the soundtrack to my second adolescence
this is the side of bed that i wake up on
not to be clinical but this is my depression
not to be cynical but every love song is a breakup song
do you ever feel like that?
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