Track 11 on Let Up.
Recorded at Bedclub Studios
My Instagram: @prestonjarrettmusic
My Spotify: open.spotify.c...
Lyrics
Today I sketched out a deleted scene from an unfinished screenplay
Took place in a war-torn village somewhere near the Mediterranean, couldn't
Recall exactly where, or whose bodies lay mangled over the reddish soil, may have
Seen mine, smells like a literal Hell's Kitchen here, unable to
Cook up something so horrific, so morbidly realistic, how these buildings
Collect themselves in the midst of inhuman atrocity, bombs, gunshots in harmony
Nothing but flame to lighten the remainder of what I could possibly dramatize
An excuse for a life that just wanted to live, one
Not worth living, uninspired skyline with every dot picked like berries and
Left to rot, buried in a dried-up backyard, Maryland winter done iced out,
Envy overpriced like a Californian drought, labor for a stillbirth
Watching gardens never come to fruition, like me and myself falling out
Whether you die in a parking lot or across the sea
Know you didn't end as whoever you were supposed to
Could have made a career out of understepping boundaries
Never meant as much as the motions you'd proceed to go through
Dreaming you're someone else, to make another run, take
Cover, move, layout, find an escape route, brave through the fog, keep searching
Trying to find a backdoor to something more...how should I say it? Poignant
Can only dodge so many drafts before you end up lost, unfinshed
Paid your dues, graduated school just to work from home
Calculated and crunched numbers in attempts at artistry, overstuffing blanks
Hated your halfhearted fusion of cartilage and bone
Skinned alive to suffer at the burnt hands of the damned, condemning to create
Life, liberty and the pursuit of tail, or head, whatever gives you meaning
Paycheck to check, debt to death, green for bread, leave behind your friends for a
So-called calling, wouldn't need fingers to count down from zero and back to scratch
Some might say I'm paid to kill, funny how I can't trust myself alone with a gun
The sun is setting on me, feel like I'm coming home from a
War waged between my potential and who I've become, where heaven is just a
Metaphor for a burden lifted off my shoulders, where hell is my worst
Fear materialized as something I never felt afraid of, paper ships setting
Course across an ocean floor, gasping below roaring waves of malcontent
My limbs tied to the ghosts of past mistakes and contractual obligations
I think the world might be ending soon, but as far as I'm concerned
Everything I'll ever know and love has already abandoned me
Tell God that I owe her one
Force her to keep that bottle in hand
I've got a couple more rounds to swallow
Before I find the courage to see her again
Негізгі бет Preston Jarrett - Aquaphobia (prod. by Purple Hex)
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