Testo A Gust Inside the God - Youngblood Brass Band
Testo della canzone A Gust Inside the God (Youngblood Brass Band), tratta dall'album Pax Volumi
You have a bomb
You set it alight
You throw it up
You don't look
Like what? Trophy next to me
An analog, a metaphor, a synecdoche
An argument for a snap vasectomy
A median that means your hands have atrophied
Immediate discourse, I mediate six swords
A media trick force in medius ratus dorms
("Just drop it right here where you found it, pal
It's
Fifteen degrees and we'll never get out of this")
Stand aside from the stars and critics
I've evaded the shit hit and your fans are with it
God's a color wheel, yep, flags, you get it?
I'ma set it off, you go home and shed it
I heard you twice the first time you said it
Keep rhymes invented, each guy a veteran pro
I'm murdering shows, burgers, and bros
Your sentence is blow, my sentence is? (Whoa)
A death warrant on my bed for breakfast
My best hope, make it hot and forget this
Make good on a promise to wreck this
Make fire by sparking a set list
Have a ball, set alight, throw it up, don't look, do work
Just keep walking
'Cause it's all just a night in a club in a war
Truth hurts, please stop talking
You have a bomb
You set it alight
You throw it up
You don't look
At the city with the most fluorescent bands
Molded on a crescent where cats are playing
Tambourine like a Mardi Gras Indian
Leave the beat, Uncle Lionel, that's the man
Putting heat on a motherfucking frying pan
Like the world demands that you hit this here
Home blade, cowbell, bottle of beer
All signs of war tend to finally ignite
The kind of symphonies America doesn't like
Who cares? They got a word no one else can write
And mine is all a good word down a commoner's strife
The best kid you'll ever hear is in New Orleans for life
So hit the simile love, I'm like a mic with a cord
Running from Wisconsin to the Sixth Ward
Where there's a drummer in a grave marked "Shavers"
And I bet he's still wearing a hot "H" shirt
The earth's got a funny kind of pay dirt
Marionette, unplug me, and I gotta say words
'Cause I missed the funeral and the parade, sir
And I'm sorry your memorial's a lame verse, but
Have a ball, set alight, throw it up, don't look, do work
Just keep walking
'Cause it's all just a night in a club in a war
Truth hurts, please stop talking
You have a bomb
You set it alight
You throw it up
You don't look
You have a bomb
You set it alight
You throw it up
You don't look
You have a bomb
You set it alight
You throw it up
You don't look
You have a bomb
You set it alight
You throw it up
You don't look
You have a bomb
You set it alight
You throw it up
You don't look
You don't look
Credits
Writer(s): David William Henzie-skogen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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