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allone (usa) - i have no eyedea (michael "euedea" larsen tribute) كلمات الأغنية

i have no idea how to try to cope
the tragedy grabs at me by the throat
i find i felt for you like you were my first born
listening to all of your art, my oliver hart, hurts more

i’m writin’ because you’re dead, wishin’ you were alive
feelin’ empty since you left and yet inspired to survive
something melted inside when the news hit my ears
i feel i’m missing a sibling with which i grew amid my years
we met when you performed this summer in new york
played burn fetish like an arsonist, made smart remarks at kids
held my arm and gripped as we parted lips to harmonize in the darkness
into the same microphone
“mike l-rs-n” (as he’d steal shows) is one of my heroes
because…well f-ck, i mean “was” as now his life is gone
you colored your world yours and our world more
should have been twice as known!
never generic, as if adrenaline and esoteric lessons
were embedded, netted in your genetics
sped up sentences effortless, affectionate, emotionable
although every opponent known to be overthrown
these wild freestyle sk!lls undeniable! genre: undefinable
integrated innovation. beautiful musings through his music
while cruising through the blinding light like in “step by step”
i can’t imagine the birth of a bigger fish
whose swimmer fins could fill the shoe size here you left
no one wants to wear those eerie shirts that claim “eyedea is dead”
you’ve written grim predictions…
or coincidences at the very least your
friend died in october as spoken in “hay fever”
and according to the addictions
and recordings amid the fiction
adoring of physics and exploring of religion
no stray needle stashed in the hay fever stack
whatever bane leaves you thrashed
this world? they need you back

i have no idea how to try to cope
the tragedy grabs at me by the throat
i find i felt for you like you were my first born
listening to all of your art, my oliver hart, hurts more

one of our stars was destroyed
i don’t know how to act right, now
this is junk i don’t want to have the right to think
to have to think to write about
sensible, and scarily true how clarity is bruised and dead
with losing him “what don’t k!ll me…” you knew the rest
but i’d prefer a lunatic that continues to live
who’s music’s sick, than this lucid print
of confusion glimpsed upon the clouded thoughts
of my brain, liquid sovereignty rains on my parade
doused and offered a reigning lump in my throat
as i choke on powdered water
that’ll recall your adam’s apple
don’t tell me where the arrow’s seeking
i don’t know where this big shot’s well being
was blindly fired…sky-diving dove from
but life’s murder of you is a memory that has my smile broke up
influenced leagues of listeners and people that seen you grow up
arms thrown up, to raise the roof of their skulls
just to know what their soul’s touched
everyone who was here for you’s jaw dropped
when you’d show up, with every mind blowing concept you spoke of
quite honestly a wild oddity child prodigy
and when i met you i wish i “met a man who trained himself not to”
bottled dream and disappear into a great-lake-effect
a sea of collected tears that make me hate to take a breath
this darkened blasphemous h-ll
spins cycles around my void head like a carbon carousel
beating the many face…candies until it’s sugary fake gl-ss breaks

i have no idea how to try to cope
the tragedy grabs at me by the throat
i find i felt for you like you were my first born
listening to all of your art, my oliver hart, hurts more

my exhausted love misses you
i hope you’re in some paradise, kept
because out of e&a day, just a day remains left
we know this is where we were when we wept
wiping blues, after we read “eyedea is dead”
like those shirts he pressed, back then we were sure impressed
but now we’re al; depressed, since he wrecked each set he blessed
and despite your song with sean daley
we’ll mourn daily and never forget

i have no eyedea how to try to cope
the tragedy grabs at me by the throat
i find i felt for you like you were my first born
listening to all of your art, my oliver hart, hurts more

- allone usa

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