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ams – paper كلمات اغاني

[verse 1: ams]

a life in epistolary, trap an existence in words/
a life story between the lines, follow the details of the curves/
every inkblot donates to intricacies untold/
the frayed edges of the notebook, and how easy the paper folds/
the scratched and erased, the lifespan, probably what it’s seen/
the ink fingertips that traced and dog-eared pages, making the edges unclean/
the scars and imperfections seem simple on the surface/
but every mark and singular speck serves a significant purpose/
cognizant of only myself; the stray noise i could hear/
the soft static of pen against paper, and the speech that reached my ears/
the sp-ce between inspirations was just the wide rule of a line/
my ranges were infinite, lying between divine and d minor nine/
an addiction to ball-point pens, inject upon a daily round/
carrying blanks with in case something came disguised as profound/
the hands ached, the surroundings and purpose changed/
leather bound journals became napkins in restaurants, but the drive was still the same/
i dined upon jazz records, and digested the inspirations/
but suffered stomaches if i hadn’t fulfilled the post-listening obligation/
sip the record skips, and drain the rest to use as ink/
absorb the stereo crackle of vinyl platter, and pushing myself to the brink/
breathe deeply and exhale scrawls onto a page/
falling off of my margins, and straight into a state enraged/
attempt to chisel writer’s block, back into tabula rosa/
a long journey to arrive back at the same line i was supposed to/
plagued by papyrus, reject the type-casted elite/
because i’d rather scratch out lines, instead of hitting keys to delete/
rejoice when a m-n-script is complete, consider the end product blessed/
but never resting on the laurels, turn the page, and start fresh//

[verse 2: ams]

around about midnight, i drank the last bottle of b-tches brew/
contemplating a love supreme, left me feeling kind of blue/
to snap my mind from the blue haze, i scribbled sketches of spain/
spent the detail on the birds of paradise i saw from my windowpane/
spoke on paper in a silent way, explorations of better days/
the undercurrents of my tijuana mood describes my interplay/
sundays at the village vanguard, and evenings at birdland/
drifting in and out of listening watching porgy and bess hold hands/
naima said i was living my life on mars/
hallucinations of bamboo children hanging outside of campus bars/
stood under the rusted street lamps of yet another iron city/
that was father to the birth of cool, but still shows no pity/
tip my porkpie hat to my forefathers, inspirational kings/
who pushed me to wire-bound and wide rule, a few of my favorite things/
put the needle to the groove, mindset at 33 rotations/
and attach ballpoint to mead surface, riding along the improvisations/
the simplest of substances, with the greatest potential/
less than centimeters thick, but having the power to trap instrumentals/
from phone number to phoneme, chicken scratch to magnum opus/
oral hocus-pocus, smoking focus, just to make the dopest/
a paper planet with syllables written on each scr-p side/
would leave a lifetime of turning pages, looking for sentences inside/
constrained only by time and the stanzas composed/
letting the instruments fade to nothing, as i let the notebook close//

- ams

كلمات أغنية عشوائية

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