Blue Kite
๐ต 1589 characters
โฑ๏ธ 6:11 duration
๐ ID: 22971109
๐ Lyrics
I think that I was born so I could make this song
And I think you were born so you could prove me wrong
I think that you will point out how these notes are trite
And I'll concede because the critic's always right
I'm back to writing, but I feel a little static
I've gotten older, so I don't feel as emphatic
You know my story, yeah, I'm just a fucking addict
The market's run its course now back into the attic, yeah
On the cusp of my hazy, fraught, and feverish mind, oh
There is not one line vacant in the synapse of my soul, yeah-yeah
On the cusp of my hazy, fraught, and feverish mind, oh
There is not one line vacant in the synapse of my soul, yeah-yeah
The house was cold, but we had pictures on the wall
To invoke an understandin' of it all
Wrong direction led us both into the fringe
Self-deprecating as our minds became unhinged
Sticking balance over years of push-and-pull
Absolved of bedbugs and that dirty fentanyl (that dirty fentanyl)
Road to recovery, an early talking point
New sensations but still broken at the joint, yeah
There's no reason for this sapless lack-of-lack
The medium itself won't keep this space intact
Messages are shrouded in a caustic mix
Of virtue and of vanity begging to fix
No agenda that brings meaning to this life
Meaning's just a medium for calculated strife
Lawless like Sunyata, there's no state to which I'm bound
Until the lack-of-lack proceeds to burn me to the ground
I'm that stray dog leering through the fog
Left out of the ark, dancing in the dark
Coddled by the tree branches like a leash
In the winter light, I'm the blue kite
And I think you were born so you could prove me wrong
I think that you will point out how these notes are trite
And I'll concede because the critic's always right
I'm back to writing, but I feel a little static
I've gotten older, so I don't feel as emphatic
You know my story, yeah, I'm just a fucking addict
The market's run its course now back into the attic, yeah
On the cusp of my hazy, fraught, and feverish mind, oh
There is not one line vacant in the synapse of my soul, yeah-yeah
On the cusp of my hazy, fraught, and feverish mind, oh
There is not one line vacant in the synapse of my soul, yeah-yeah
The house was cold, but we had pictures on the wall
To invoke an understandin' of it all
Wrong direction led us both into the fringe
Self-deprecating as our minds became unhinged
Sticking balance over years of push-and-pull
Absolved of bedbugs and that dirty fentanyl (that dirty fentanyl)
Road to recovery, an early talking point
New sensations but still broken at the joint, yeah
There's no reason for this sapless lack-of-lack
The medium itself won't keep this space intact
Messages are shrouded in a caustic mix
Of virtue and of vanity begging to fix
No agenda that brings meaning to this life
Meaning's just a medium for calculated strife
Lawless like Sunyata, there's no state to which I'm bound
Until the lack-of-lack proceeds to burn me to the ground
I'm that stray dog leering through the fog
Left out of the ark, dancing in the dark
Coddled by the tree branches like a leash
In the winter light, I'm the blue kite
โฑ๏ธ Synced Lyrics
[00:42.92] I think that I was born so I could make this song
[00:46.91] And I think you were born so you could prove me wrong
[00:50.92] I think that you will point out how these notes are trite
[00:54.99] And I'll concede because the critic's always right
[00:58.97] I'm back to writing, but I feel a little static
[01:02.95] I've gotten older, so I don't feel as emphatic
[01:06.95] You know my story, yeah, I'm just a fucking addict
[01:10.91] The market's run its course now back into the attic, yeah
[01:16.60]
[01:47.15] On the cusp of my hazy, fraught, and feverish mind, oh
[01:55.20] There is not one line vacant in the synapse of my soul, yeah-yeah
[02:03.28] On the cusp of my hazy, fraught, and feverish mind, oh
[02:11.26] There is not one line vacant in the synapse of my soul, yeah-yeah
[02:19.08] The house was cold, but we had pictures on the wall
[02:23.54] To invoke an understandin' of it all
[02:27.28] Wrong direction led us both into the fringe
[02:30.82] Self-deprecating as our minds became unhinged
[02:35.05] Sticking balance over years of push-and-pull
[02:38.96] Absolved of bedbugs and that dirty fentanyl (that dirty fentanyl)
[02:42.91] Road to recovery, an early talking point
[02:47.25] New sensations but still broken at the joint, yeah
[02:52.58]
[04:39.76] There's no reason for this sapless lack-of-lack
[04:43.43] The medium itself won't keep this space intact
[04:47.78] Messages are shrouded in a caustic mix
[04:51.74] Of virtue and of vanity begging to fix
[04:55.79] No agenda that brings meaning to this life
[04:58.92] Meaning's just a medium for calculated strife
[05:02.94] Lawless like Sunyata, there's no state to which I'm bound
[05:06.98] Until the lack-of-lack proceeds to burn me to the ground
[05:10.95] I'm that stray dog leering through the fog
[05:14.93] Left out of the ark, dancing in the dark
[05:18.93] Coddled by the tree branches like a leash
[05:22.98] In the winter light, I'm the blue kite
[05:26.70]
[00:46.91] And I think you were born so you could prove me wrong
[00:50.92] I think that you will point out how these notes are trite
[00:54.99] And I'll concede because the critic's always right
[00:58.97] I'm back to writing, but I feel a little static
[01:02.95] I've gotten older, so I don't feel as emphatic
[01:06.95] You know my story, yeah, I'm just a fucking addict
[01:10.91] The market's run its course now back into the attic, yeah
[01:16.60]
[01:47.15] On the cusp of my hazy, fraught, and feverish mind, oh
[01:55.20] There is not one line vacant in the synapse of my soul, yeah-yeah
[02:03.28] On the cusp of my hazy, fraught, and feverish mind, oh
[02:11.26] There is not one line vacant in the synapse of my soul, yeah-yeah
[02:19.08] The house was cold, but we had pictures on the wall
[02:23.54] To invoke an understandin' of it all
[02:27.28] Wrong direction led us both into the fringe
[02:30.82] Self-deprecating as our minds became unhinged
[02:35.05] Sticking balance over years of push-and-pull
[02:38.96] Absolved of bedbugs and that dirty fentanyl (that dirty fentanyl)
[02:42.91] Road to recovery, an early talking point
[02:47.25] New sensations but still broken at the joint, yeah
[02:52.58]
[04:39.76] There's no reason for this sapless lack-of-lack
[04:43.43] The medium itself won't keep this space intact
[04:47.78] Messages are shrouded in a caustic mix
[04:51.74] Of virtue and of vanity begging to fix
[04:55.79] No agenda that brings meaning to this life
[04:58.92] Meaning's just a medium for calculated strife
[05:02.94] Lawless like Sunyata, there's no state to which I'm bound
[05:06.98] Until the lack-of-lack proceeds to burn me to the ground
[05:10.95] I'm that stray dog leering through the fog
[05:14.93] Left out of the ark, dancing in the dark
[05:18.93] Coddled by the tree branches like a leash
[05:22.98] In the winter light, I'm the blue kite
[05:26.70]