1. |
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I feel the familiar pain in my throat. This abuse is getting old, but the relief in my head grows and grows and I don't know which is worth more. See, I don't want to go home, so I wander in my head and along these roads for hours that seem like minutes and nights that feel like days. Let me count the ways that I've tried to motivate myself with nothing to show for it and no proof from any of it. If life is like a box of chocolates, then I got the munchies and ate all of them and the stomach ache that followed has done nothing but paralyze me for two years and counting. Its as if this house is burning around me, but I can't bring myself to see it through all this smoke. So I wait it out, writing it down with pen and paper, using paragraphs to personify everything I don't want to see as wasted time. I'm sick of feeling fine as my life withers by like these ashes in front of my eyes. I used to think that made me strong, but now I realize what I've become
NUMB
So I'm done using paper in a way that leaves leafs burning like the questions that I've left unanswered. I'm done rolling up and packing down a feeling just to avoid thinking about who I've been being. I want to find my motivation. I want to learn about concentration. I want to stop feeling so paranoid and holding my tongue in reservation, so that when I'm dead or my mind has gone, the words that it produced will live on and maybe someone will finally believe that the blood that's in my veins isn't as black as the tar that I used to hold it in for so long.
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2. |
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My breath is labored and heavy
My clothes smell like smoke
I’ve been looking for an exit
But I don’t where to go
I’ve emptied quite a few bottles
But I don’t even have a cold
I can’t take my eyes off the sky
I’m looking to the stars for a new hope
The pharmacist knows me by name
I just can’t kick this cough, at least that’s what I say
My friends would probably all worry
And tell me I’m a mess
But I keep this all under wraps
Behind the guise of happiness
I cleverly sew it into songs
But never say it out loud
So people assume it’s a metaphor
Maybe it’s a cry for help
So I met this new girl, she seems pretty great
Every time she comes around I don’t feel the need to self medicate.
My breath is labored and heavy
My clothes smell like smoke
I’ve been looking for an exit
But I don’t where to go
Maybe I found a guiding light
But she’s not with me yet
So for now I’ll just follow suit
With the tip of my cigarette
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3. |
Cj - Life For Your Lungs
01:55
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Woke up this morning, I was achin’ to taste it
and cravin’ to blaze it, but I’m hatin’ all the time I’ve been wastin’.
I need to face it: been changin’ and it isn’t for better.
I used to rhyme all the time, but now erase every letter.
And the words don’t stick unlike the smoke in my chest.
Fog in my mind is so thick. I know I'm not at my best
and twenty one is too young to live a life for your lungs.
It feels likes the drugs I've taken simply cut out my tongue.
Now I’ve been blazin’ paper, but I’ve also torched relations.
Sayin', "nah, we'll hang out later" to my friends outside rotation.
Stayin’ home alone and stoned. I’m racking up Facebook clicks,
a marathon of Game of Thrones, and a bag of kettle cooked chips.
My thesis is I need to beat this recreation turned to weakness.
Ditched the weed and smoking pieces with the hopes of mental freedom.
Stopped dropping my cash on a stash, but I’m still toking the pipe when it’s passed
and I’m still bitin’ the line when it's cast. I swear one day I'll make it last.
It’s been months since I wrote this song and I still haven’t gotten along with the idea of detox.
I listen to Greg, Mike and Ryan’s tracks and I can’t help but be amazed at the art each of them have created.
And me? I’ve been too stoned to even create an instrumental to house my lyrics.
Too high to provide more than sixteen bars for something that you’ve waited too long for.
And for that I’m truly sorry.
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4. |
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