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lt headtrip - throw your phone in the ocean كلمات الأغنية

throw your phone in the ocean

twenty thousand people on an island complaining ‘bout verizon. “sh_t, i think a tower’s down.”
there’s a kaleidoscope where the sea hits the horizon but they bangin’ on appliances. “d_mn. i think the routers out.”
i need a signal. gimme that password
keep the spiel kid, thanks, didn’t ask for it
at a bar on the beach at the office, still
catch a fallin’ sky and put in your pocket
imma watch that sh_t go down. imma gawk as aquarius hurls to the ground while a lone star launches herself from c_ckpit hopin’ that her parachute’ll operate now
wait. bottle that moment. hold up. check that connеction
hey, swallow that mimosa and forget about your headachеs
hey, coddled ass grownups, skip the letter to the editor
these bottles in the ocean got a devastating message

like, i hope that someone gets my reference
or at least acknowledges the effertz
perhaps the doctors of our universal presence
never stopped weigh the consequences of a broader connection

so if a cell phone tower on an island falls
(“it fell right into the bluffs!”)
can’t n0body make the call
(“is anybody gonna pick that up?)
did it ever really happen at all?

you throw your phone in the ocean
yup, and then you’re untethered
throw your phone in the ocean
yup, and then you feel better
throw your phone in the ocean
yup, and then it gets wetter
throw your phone in the ocean
don’t call me in the mornin like
doctor!
don’t fix my antennae
throw ya phone in the ocean
yup, and then you feel better
throw your phone in the ocean
yup, and then it gets wetter
throw your phone in the ocean
day 3: itch gone rash. gotta get the chip beneath the skin to talk back. whole island sick from detachment. town wide melt down. the city just snaps
with no gifs they forget how to laugh. the p.o.s. down and n0body brought cash. that means no tips for the staff and they can’t log overtime. the kitchen might crack next
they screamin’ “mutiny!” at aldo’s and the manisses. i hear they started looting the atlantic like a pack of thieves. the manager’s like, “please i have a family!”tied to the mast of a burning ship sent back to the sea
bar arguments are left unsettled. the only music playin’ at scotch comes from the pebbles as they’re combed by the foaming tide, climbing and resting. if you’d only close your eyes you could hear the sirens beckoning. it’s angelic

then we’re happy with detachment for a moment
and everyone’s relaxed enough to notice
the enchantment of our understated cumulative wholeness
a friend without a profile
a web without a modem

but then the tower pulls itself up by the motors
and brushes the the bluff crumbs from its unworthy shoulders
and we all resume our voluntary torment
hurry! drown your f_ckin’ phone like an informant!

- lt headtrip

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