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Ayfere, freeport, the bahamas
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #3,943
Peak in subgenre #385
Author
Ayfere / Capcussa
Uploaded
November 21, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 1.7 MB • 128 kbps • 1:54
Lyrics
Beat: CapCussa - Sad Story
I hear the horns, as they puncture my flesh,
Speaking best, as simple statements challenge the rest,
As it brings forth, nothing spectacular,
Dimes drop, as no sleep time is passing ya,
Grabbing every Mercury laden drop, to detox,
Reaffirming every cell with completion of a hotbox,
Were every space wreaks of pot, spewing forth,
The creation of course, of crystal clear courts,
To divorce my wicker burning pipe dreams,
that leak steam, Forbidden to think about the scheme
Or any of it, to get a step ahead, school excitement,
And instead, bring forwards to the fights dent,
Excuse me mr, the brains disguised as phenomenal,
When instead, the simplistic use is only nominal,
Confused as topical ointment in the bowels,
Diffusing across a beach of sand and shells,
So now we can dwell, and pretend that two exist,
As there is only one soul, alone, on sand that will drift,
Dependable to slip and skip, refuse to come to conclude
That the subtle drip, is that we were only born to lose...
I am not frustratingly focused,
Instead perfectly balancing on the hoaxes,
To test troubled glances and the voters,
Who deliver your arrival and show boasters,
Loving away the motors, to torque forwards,
The precision of coasters, escaping the horrors,
begins with filing, fast, too hard to study the last
Killer breaks towards a playful crash,
I PiCTURED This, but like photographs forgotten,
In every scene, tv, silked together cotton,
Blessings have daunted, and created borrowed,
There are more words, but the arrival is the moral,
To pile up and quarrel, towards a sneaky poor well,
That leaks every time the time of day dwells,
So as the fame bellows a hollow street towards leaving,
All the masks melt themselves together and find meaning,
Screaming over the colors and money well spent,
Decisions shooting the change to the dents,
Receiving, booting to the range of the fence.
