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the boocklub - free yourself, chapter 5; paragraph 11 كلمات أغنية

[intro _ thy comedian]
and no longer things so black and white
no longer things so_

[verse _ thy comedian]
and no longer things so black and white, as i creep through the night
like whatchu call the “afterlife” is simply another dimension
where beings like to go and figure out what they done did and take it into a new form
but it took away the soul they had and then it’s all for yours… i mean, it’s all for grabs
but see, lately, we got the stick up, the fish stick
with the money in front of it but you on a treadmill waiting to get to it
knowing the opportunity ain’t yours while the motherf_cker next to you
spending more money than you’ll еver get in your life
you’rе suffocating in these problems; what the f_ck is this? is this your problems or mine?
it feels like all of ours; it feels like a scar’s so deep; we can never come back from
but what is the outcome? we pick up a shotgun and shoot up the next one that tell us to take a pill
like, no, i can’t chill, for real
you might needa gimme them pills and say i offed myself like michael if you want me to shut the f_ck up
‘coz i won’t do sh_t but start sh_t like michael myers if you won’t shut me the f_ck up, so
i guess i’ll keep goin’
and keep flowin’, and dabble in the parts unknown
it’s more than just a multiverse

the way envy snap these keys is like thanos, kneel us, wipe your knees
before you disappear into the spirit of this melody, leveling this playful field
you’re tar_tar to my sichuan sauce
see dr. dawkin in macaulay culkin’s spouse when she’s in the house lonely
respectively tapping her hormones harmoniously, zinger after zinger, followed up with a stinger splash
yapping to retired psycho_n_lysts, settling this in a judge’s master bedroom as the jury finds the verdict pervy
i’m staking out with perry the platypus and harvey bullock
no sh_t, sherlock, i stole my overcoat from count orlok and lawyered up through matt murdock
don’t get me lit, put on the lid, scratch off schindler’s list over fish and chips
you couldn’t gamble scrambled eggs, well, because the data was lost on floppy disks
tisk, tisk, send in the swat and i’ll make bacon bits
then grease my ass hair in it, that’s fashionable dingleberry trinkets
seems the batteries low on these walkie_talkies
over and out
[outro _ sample]
(hurry, spongebob! i think it’s getting_ dark…)
(just put on your siren, i’ll be right there.)
(wee woo, wee woo, wee woo, wee woo_)

- the boocklub

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