And they say – yeah
That’s just the half of it, you know what I’m saying?
That’s just the part of the game and the game and the game, you know?
It’s just what you gotta do, you know?
It is what it is and it what it is, uh, yeah
Live in the flesh
Beehive survived in a wreck
I carry knives like samurais on a quest
That I drive in the chest like it’s [?] treasure
He lost the game and cried in his checkers
Lost his name and now signs with an X
I just wanna commit crimes in Tibet, turn and say something divine, and then climb in a jet
Contrived but correct, besides and direct
[?] knows I tell lies to the left
And meditate on the upsides of a “yes”
P.S. I destroyed everything you tried to protect
Eight o’clock means it’s left behind like you died on a trek
Push these pies in the next
And try to swallow dry what you tried to reflect
All of that pride, thumb slide to refresh, yes, yes, yes
What if we were dancers, yeah
And we didn’t have any answers, no
But life gave us things that we could see, yeah
We could be, yeah
You and me, yeah
Til eternity, yeah
(Yes, yes, yes, it don’t really take much to do what needs to be done
The songs need to be sung
Rivers need to be swum, swam, swum, all that)
Just as brushes go hard in the paint
So we, too, don’t bend like arms in restraints
I wanna learn how to farm but I cain’t
And cannot, I’d rather move to another plan-ot
I try and pen grace like Ken Shamrock
But it spits in my face like basically a mouth roll
Mousehole in a household
One thing’s thoroughly couched like a slouch [?]
From which they say he lazily blew horns like lapis lazuli on a [?]
But when things got stunning he hit the ground running like out soles
Now how about those outros
And those apocalyptic visions
Bulls arise with chopsticks and them vertically sittin’
Tom is over the door with the frying pan of war
Jerry very perturbed like “you gotta be kiddin’ me”
What if I knew the words for the songs of the birds
And we could understand what they tweet, tweet, yeah
We could hear what they see, yeah
You and me, yeah
Til eternity, yeah
He who has the black classic mama
Dad was the black man, [?]
Karate stance, put hands on the brahma, do not cook
I remember the boiling pot from which the rock took
And you can either put it down or shot put
That’s why I scrape the ground like an ox foot before the charges
I was Bill of Rights and Ted Talks meet the [?] before it all started
But you can’t harvest before the hardship
Might scrape the ground like Mike shoes
Back it up, might have to Harvard before the high school just like I do
Yes, we will go far smelling like [?]
Even with those wild stallions way behind our stagecoach
It will behoove you
To ask your doctor “Who’s Wasalu?” to the game that you’re used to
What if we were dancers
And we didn’t have any answers, no
But life gave us things that we could see, yeah
We could be, yeah
You and me, yeah
Til eternity, yeah