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mike east – saga song of the vagabond كلمات اغاني

from paradise into the open wings of a broken dream
i hope the seams don’t split from this free-roam sh-t
i’ve been homeless, but never like this
i’m in a land lacking l-ster and i’m accustomed to brightness
it’s pure dark in this room at night
and i heard the north star and the moon have light
but they won’t share the glory
they could care less for caring for me
fair is fair, and i’ll spare you the story
the music’s boring; the rhythm won’t make the feet dance
and though i’m hotter than the fattest guy i’d be satisfied
with heat lamps to light the way for perfect performance
i thought i had my thoughts sorted, now the speech demon lies dormant
i try to ignore it and force the words, but nothing happens
i need a scanner line for raps so i can tap in, like
“captain! captain! n0body knows where the maps went!
it’s everything we’ve ever dreaded, now the crew is headed to the chaplain!”
and they’re praying for gentle winds and direction to settle in
so even though i’m a practiced nomadic veteran
i’m looking for a place to call home… even if it means that i’ll be all alone
there’s no counting the towns i’ve p-ssed through like a gallstone;
addresses practically tattooed on my jawbone
from webster to southbridge, down south to vero
where i stayed about a thousand places – headstrong highway hero
two hours north for two months in orlando
spent half of the time crammed in a van with a band, though;
‘til everything fell apart systematically
started a metal band so the madame was mad at me
i traveled rapidly from there to a couple of mansions
living in spare rooms and property expansions
the new group disbanded just as we had made our mark
so i cut the yellow tape and i escaped to a trailer park
from there i migrated to port st. lucie
on the border of jensen beach, overlooking the blue sea
i used to be blind to the position i lived in, but listen –
i’ve been in new york a minute and holy sh-t, i miss it
but i’m submissive when it comes to my p-ssion
so with the cash in my pocket and a tank to put gas in
i quit my job and my band, said bye to my friends and family
and i found a lonely island and a bas-m-nt to crash in
north on 95 was the game plan, the right track
met a couple detours in the flight path
i fell the f-ck in love with the rest of the ec
serene scenery you never see on your tv
chilled in an old–ss castle in st. auggie;
gallivanted in savannah ‘til i got groggy
so i slept at some rest stops, kicked up a green haze
hit richmond, the dc, and i made it in three days
nesconset was a nightmare –
that sh-t right there was as low as it gets, bro – a literal sh-t-show
seclued like gitmo in a bas-m-nt under leaky waste basins on a double-couch with my boy jason
somehow i ended up arriving in blue point
where i crashed at a new joint and burned trees like i was a rude boy
where i discovered dmt, became a free mc, and realized my true voice
but just like every good thing, it came to p-ss, dog
and i never take the opportunity to slack off
i packed my bags, emerged from the black fog
and headed back on the track – last stop: patchogue
i crashed on a mattress in the garage where my band practiced on a floor that smelled like cat p-ss
now adapted to the madness but glad to be past it, and bouncing back like elastic
i stayed about a year and a half
but with a sneer and a laugh
i’m clearin’ a path, and emptyin’ my fear in the trash
i am a vagabond, an adamant travelin’ anaconda, constrictin’ foes and slowly growin’ the saga long
a wayfarer, a pain bearer for the downtrodden
none of the places that i’ve stayed with ever be forgotten –
the real, the rotten, foes, family, friends
but the road will always be my favorite land to the end
sing it again

- mike east

كلمات أغنية عشوائية

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