Buddha Complex - Good Mourning (American Beauty)
I duct tape my wrists to my ankles for a paycheck...
Do you like peanut butter?!
YES?!
Then you'll truly love Buddha Complex's delicious grooves!
APF doesn't exist anymore. It's just Buddha Complex and maybe some other heads if they got they act write.
Story behind the song
Many things: movies, lives, the struggle and the physical and emotional exhaustion that comes with the paperchase. Also, your mom and I was having pillow talk and she told me how artist types that go against the whole 9-5 mentality of common sheep get her more open than Janet. I love your mom.
Lyrics
Intro/
*Excerpt from The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock (1917) by T.S. Eliot
Verse 1/
I've had my caffeine peaks and silicon valleys
White collar dollars to support the bitch I married
I drive an old Lexus and live in suburbia
45 years old and suffered from a hernia
My alarm clock rings at 6 and jars me awake
the groggy fogginess is the start of my day
Stumbled out of bed and dragged myself
kickin and screamin yet everyday I'm defeated
I reason I need it to survive, though everyday I
die slightly every blink of eye in this 9 to 5
Today, am I suited for the cubicle, the usual
tune of florescent lights as my life's musical
Before I can answer, I have my pants on
sippin hot coffee while I watch the damn clock
I can't be late, things need my handcock, reports
need to be filed, I won't stop, I can't stop
*Excerpt from The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock (1917) by T.S. Eliot
hook/
Good morning, good afternoon, good night
Fuck have I done with my life?
I used to wanna be a painter, creatin canvases
expanding man's parameters of understanding
Good morning, good afternoon, good night
Fuck have I done with my life?
Sick of all this corporate, morgage shit
when all I wanted to do was paint a fuckin portrait and ignore this shit
Verse 2/
I have a daughter, a relic from the happy days
The memories encapsulated in my brain which marinate
A teenage latent racist made complacent
by cable, complainin daily, and she hates me
Though it would've been the same for either boy or girl
because I fucked it up and I spoiled her
But I grew up different from lawns and gardens
my environment ignited a fire which made me an artist
Its amazin, I used to watch in amazement at this neighborhood
now it disturbs me I gotta stay for good
In my own house, I feel like an alien
My wife makes me stay in and goes out late and shit
And she comes home smelling like cologne
as if the picket fence is enough to stitch an almost broken home
My daughter comes home, drunk past curfew
How do I maintain, how do I not hurt you?
Stumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a little cup of ambition
Put on button down shirt, strap on a tie
Ready my pen to cross the T's and dot the I's
The anguish on my brain is fossilized and formin
its manifestation via wrinkles on my forehead
Stay my days showered by computer monitor sprites
Due to my life, I wonder if even God is alive
I armwrestle the hands of time on my wrist
until it becomes 5 oclock on my rolex then
I climb in the car and set out on my hour trip
Suffocated by the traffic feelin like a pile of shit
My paycheck feeds my wife, kid and cigarette addiction
though it doesn't do a thing for my spirit
I feel the fist of the punch in punch out
Daily as I'm limpin from the drive way into my house/ hook
*Excerpt from The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock (1917) by T.S. Eliot
