Boomerang
๐ต 3136 characters
โฑ๏ธ 4:32 duration
๐ ID: 5758545
๐ Lyrics
I spun and I stood, and I look back at the good,
And I remembered seeing ghosts, and I remembered being tiny.
I remembered always hiding with only flashlights lighting.
Had to pee when you found the best spot. Bad timing.
Climbing a dogwood. Barking, in bloom.
Sting singing on the ceiling of a blue bedroom.
Like a Harlem-line summertime hootenanny barbecue:
Screaming "I'm fine!", but I think they all knew.
Cause you can't hide your childhood flying dreams
Through your fishbowl-wall transparencies
And the clock tick-tocked. It was time to leave.
I walked away from everyone and everything,
And I thought when I left, that I couldn't come back.
With that old household never home again.
And then, when I ran toward the one-man-band,
I began abandoning all my friends.
All dressed up, like a spider in a cup
Entirely divided from his hub
Addressing injuries commissioned by the Suffolk county brier
When building coverage out of rubber tyres
Or guns out of thumbs...
Negotiated inter-stellar peace talks
Mothership transmitting intel on the meatloaf
Ummm... It's getting cold, sugar water getting warm
Cruising to a future summer, suiting up for civil war
How? All dressed up like a spider in a cup
Hiding tiny butterflies inside his gut
Having settled down, several thousand miles from his blood
To climb and tirelessly high-dive into a sponge
Space invaders through a paper Rita Hayworth
Trying to tunnel 'till he ankle deep in pay-dirt
Or halo deep in water...
Glub glub... wondering if running
Is considered by the people to be cowardly or cunning
Boom-er-oomerang, Boom-er-oomerang
Boom-er-oomerang, Boom-er-oomerang
I went east with a hole to fill in my chest.
I went west with it filled: off to build a nest.
I'm impressed. I'm depressed. I'm the best. I'm a mess.
With a pretty little baby girl upon my breast.
And next: progress, twist, turn, digress.
Busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, never rest.
I missed the rest as you might suspect,
And I tried to fly, but my wings are wet.
A kid in the woods, ducked down in the shrubs.
Out of hiding just in time to greet the sun,
So here I stand with my hand out cast aflame.
I'm sorry that sometimes I'm so lame.
I'm sorry that sometimes I'm a deadbeat friend.
The worry makes me scurry into my own head.
With my eyes on the rise, feet where it sets,
Sentimental obstacles; of course it's me not them.
All dressed up, like a spider in a cup
I'm four bald tires in the mud
When it's diner food or bust
Spiralling a sign of whats to come
While pretending I am fine with what I've done
I'm not, but homies that appreciate the crisis
And treat 'em like they seen em with a second set of eyelids
Ok, that wasn't fair, admittedly I wasn't there
Long before I volunteered as unabashed, unaware
How? All dressed up, like a spider in a cup
Who never knew a silence so abrupt
When the mileage in the middle, turn a siren to a hush
First you hate it, then you love it, then you try it as a crutch
Long Island was the hatchery, NYC the wetstone
Sharpening the carving knives, foraging for breadcrumbs
I headed west, planned to boomerang back
Sidetracked by a trans-continental cage match
And I remembered seeing ghosts, and I remembered being tiny.
I remembered always hiding with only flashlights lighting.
Had to pee when you found the best spot. Bad timing.
Climbing a dogwood. Barking, in bloom.
Sting singing on the ceiling of a blue bedroom.
Like a Harlem-line summertime hootenanny barbecue:
Screaming "I'm fine!", but I think they all knew.
Cause you can't hide your childhood flying dreams
Through your fishbowl-wall transparencies
And the clock tick-tocked. It was time to leave.
I walked away from everyone and everything,
And I thought when I left, that I couldn't come back.
With that old household never home again.
And then, when I ran toward the one-man-band,
I began abandoning all my friends.
All dressed up, like a spider in a cup
Entirely divided from his hub
Addressing injuries commissioned by the Suffolk county brier
When building coverage out of rubber tyres
Or guns out of thumbs...
Negotiated inter-stellar peace talks
Mothership transmitting intel on the meatloaf
Ummm... It's getting cold, sugar water getting warm
Cruising to a future summer, suiting up for civil war
How? All dressed up like a spider in a cup
Hiding tiny butterflies inside his gut
Having settled down, several thousand miles from his blood
To climb and tirelessly high-dive into a sponge
Space invaders through a paper Rita Hayworth
Trying to tunnel 'till he ankle deep in pay-dirt
Or halo deep in water...
Glub glub... wondering if running
Is considered by the people to be cowardly or cunning
Boom-er-oomerang, Boom-er-oomerang
Boom-er-oomerang, Boom-er-oomerang
I went east with a hole to fill in my chest.
I went west with it filled: off to build a nest.
I'm impressed. I'm depressed. I'm the best. I'm a mess.
With a pretty little baby girl upon my breast.
And next: progress, twist, turn, digress.
Busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, never rest.
I missed the rest as you might suspect,
And I tried to fly, but my wings are wet.
A kid in the woods, ducked down in the shrubs.
Out of hiding just in time to greet the sun,
So here I stand with my hand out cast aflame.
I'm sorry that sometimes I'm so lame.
I'm sorry that sometimes I'm a deadbeat friend.
The worry makes me scurry into my own head.
With my eyes on the rise, feet where it sets,
Sentimental obstacles; of course it's me not them.
All dressed up, like a spider in a cup
I'm four bald tires in the mud
When it's diner food or bust
Spiralling a sign of whats to come
While pretending I am fine with what I've done
I'm not, but homies that appreciate the crisis
And treat 'em like they seen em with a second set of eyelids
Ok, that wasn't fair, admittedly I wasn't there
Long before I volunteered as unabashed, unaware
How? All dressed up, like a spider in a cup
Who never knew a silence so abrupt
When the mileage in the middle, turn a siren to a hush
First you hate it, then you love it, then you try it as a crutch
Long Island was the hatchery, NYC the wetstone
Sharpening the carving knives, foraging for breadcrumbs
I headed west, planned to boomerang back
Sidetracked by a trans-continental cage match
โฑ๏ธ Synced Lyrics
[00:24.15] I spun and I stood, and I look back at the good,
[00:26.85] And I remembered seeing ghosts, and I remembered being tiny.
[00:29.52] I remembered always hiding with only flashlights lighting.
[00:32.88] Had to pee when you found the best spot. Bad timing.
[00:35.72] Climbing a dogwood. Barking, in bloom.
[00:38.49] Sting singing on the ceiling of a blue bedroom.
[00:41.83] Like a Harlem-line summertime hootenanny barbecue:
[00:44.82] Screaming "I'm fine!", but I think they all knew.
[00:47.46] Cause you can't hide your childhood flying dreams
[00:51.03] Through your fishbowl-wall transparencies
[00:53.79] And the clock tick-tocked. It was time to leave.
[00:56.59] I walked away from everyone and everything,
[00:59.91] And I thought when I left, that I couldn't come back.
[01:02.68] With that old household never home again.
[01:05.52] And then, when I ran toward the one-man-band,
[01:08.89] I began abandoning all my friends.
[01:12.50] All dressed up, like a spider in a cup
[01:15.37] Entirely divided from his hub
[01:17.91] Addressing injuries commissioned by the Suffolk county brier
[01:20.84] When building coverage out of rubber tyres
[01:23.40] Or guns out of thumbs...
[01:25.34] Negotiated inter-stellar peace talks
[01:27.14] Mothership transmitting intel on the meatloaf
[01:30.11] Ummm... It's getting cold, sugar water getting warm
[01:32.74] Cruising to a future summer, suiting up for civil war
[01:36.16] How? All dressed up like a spider in a cup
[01:39.55] Hiding tiny butterflies inside his gut
[01:41.77] Having settled down, several thousand miles from his blood
[01:44.99] To climb and tirelessly high-dive into a sponge
[01:47.82] Space invaders through a paper Rita Hayworth
[01:50.79] Trying to tunnel 'till he ankle deep in pay-dirt
[01:53.59] Or halo deep in water...
[01:55.16] Glub glub... wondering if running
[01:56.84] Is considered by the people to be cowardly or cunning
[02:00.11] Boom-er-oomerang, Boom-er-oomerang
[02:04.65] Boom-er-oomerang, Boom-er-oomerang
[02:12.18] I went east with a hole to fill in my chest.
[02:14.83] I went west with it filled: off to build a nest.
[02:17.52] I'm impressed. I'm depressed. I'm the best. I'm a mess.
[02:20.90] With a pretty little baby girl upon my breast.
[02:23.72] And next: progress, twist, turn, digress.
[02:26.66] Busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, never rest.
[02:29.65] I missed the rest as you might suspect,
[02:32.88] And I tried to fly, but my wings are wet.
[02:35.68] A kid in the woods, ducked down in the shrubs.
[02:38.49] Out of hiding just in time to greet the sun,
[02:41.83] So here I stand with my hand out cast aflame.
[02:44.69] I'm sorry that sometimes I'm so lame.
[02:47.49] I'm sorry that sometimes I'm a deadbeat friend.
[02:50.76] The worry makes me scurry into my own head.
[02:53.65] With my eyes on the rise, feet where it sets,
[02:56.77] Sentimental obstacles; of course it's me not them.
[03:00.60] All dressed up, like a spider in a cup
[03:03.52] I'm four bald tires in the mud
[03:05.79] When it's diner food or bust
[03:07.41] Spiralling a sign of whats to come
[03:09.83] While pretending I am fine with what I've done
[03:11.69] I'm not, but homies that appreciate the crisis
[03:15.20] And treat 'em like they seen em with a second set of eyelids
[03:18.04] Ok, that wasn't fair, admittedly I wasn't there
[03:20.81] Long before I volunteered as unabashed, unaware
[03:24.31] How? All dressed up, like a spider in a cup
[03:27.70] Who never knew a silence so abrupt
[03:29.68] When the mileage in the middle, turn a siren to a hush
[03:32.59] First you hate it, then you love it, then you try it as a crutch
[03:35.90] Long Island was the hatchery, NYC the wetstone
[03:38.83] Sharpening the carving knives, foraging for breadcrumbs
[03:42.20] I headed west, planned to boomerang back
[03:44.85] Sidetracked by a trans-continental cage match
[03:48.20]
[00:26.85] And I remembered seeing ghosts, and I remembered being tiny.
[00:29.52] I remembered always hiding with only flashlights lighting.
[00:32.88] Had to pee when you found the best spot. Bad timing.
[00:35.72] Climbing a dogwood. Barking, in bloom.
[00:38.49] Sting singing on the ceiling of a blue bedroom.
[00:41.83] Like a Harlem-line summertime hootenanny barbecue:
[00:44.82] Screaming "I'm fine!", but I think they all knew.
[00:47.46] Cause you can't hide your childhood flying dreams
[00:51.03] Through your fishbowl-wall transparencies
[00:53.79] And the clock tick-tocked. It was time to leave.
[00:56.59] I walked away from everyone and everything,
[00:59.91] And I thought when I left, that I couldn't come back.
[01:02.68] With that old household never home again.
[01:05.52] And then, when I ran toward the one-man-band,
[01:08.89] I began abandoning all my friends.
[01:12.50] All dressed up, like a spider in a cup
[01:15.37] Entirely divided from his hub
[01:17.91] Addressing injuries commissioned by the Suffolk county brier
[01:20.84] When building coverage out of rubber tyres
[01:23.40] Or guns out of thumbs...
[01:25.34] Negotiated inter-stellar peace talks
[01:27.14] Mothership transmitting intel on the meatloaf
[01:30.11] Ummm... It's getting cold, sugar water getting warm
[01:32.74] Cruising to a future summer, suiting up for civil war
[01:36.16] How? All dressed up like a spider in a cup
[01:39.55] Hiding tiny butterflies inside his gut
[01:41.77] Having settled down, several thousand miles from his blood
[01:44.99] To climb and tirelessly high-dive into a sponge
[01:47.82] Space invaders through a paper Rita Hayworth
[01:50.79] Trying to tunnel 'till he ankle deep in pay-dirt
[01:53.59] Or halo deep in water...
[01:55.16] Glub glub... wondering if running
[01:56.84] Is considered by the people to be cowardly or cunning
[02:00.11] Boom-er-oomerang, Boom-er-oomerang
[02:04.65] Boom-er-oomerang, Boom-er-oomerang
[02:12.18] I went east with a hole to fill in my chest.
[02:14.83] I went west with it filled: off to build a nest.
[02:17.52] I'm impressed. I'm depressed. I'm the best. I'm a mess.
[02:20.90] With a pretty little baby girl upon my breast.
[02:23.72] And next: progress, twist, turn, digress.
[02:26.66] Busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, never rest.
[02:29.65] I missed the rest as you might suspect,
[02:32.88] And I tried to fly, but my wings are wet.
[02:35.68] A kid in the woods, ducked down in the shrubs.
[02:38.49] Out of hiding just in time to greet the sun,
[02:41.83] So here I stand with my hand out cast aflame.
[02:44.69] I'm sorry that sometimes I'm so lame.
[02:47.49] I'm sorry that sometimes I'm a deadbeat friend.
[02:50.76] The worry makes me scurry into my own head.
[02:53.65] With my eyes on the rise, feet where it sets,
[02:56.77] Sentimental obstacles; of course it's me not them.
[03:00.60] All dressed up, like a spider in a cup
[03:03.52] I'm four bald tires in the mud
[03:05.79] When it's diner food or bust
[03:07.41] Spiralling a sign of whats to come
[03:09.83] While pretending I am fine with what I've done
[03:11.69] I'm not, but homies that appreciate the crisis
[03:15.20] And treat 'em like they seen em with a second set of eyelids
[03:18.04] Ok, that wasn't fair, admittedly I wasn't there
[03:20.81] Long before I volunteered as unabashed, unaware
[03:24.31] How? All dressed up, like a spider in a cup
[03:27.70] Who never knew a silence so abrupt
[03:29.68] When the mileage in the middle, turn a siren to a hush
[03:32.59] First you hate it, then you love it, then you try it as a crutch
[03:35.90] Long Island was the hatchery, NYC the wetstone
[03:38.83] Sharpening the carving knives, foraging for breadcrumbs
[03:42.20] I headed west, planned to boomerang back
[03:44.85] Sidetracked by a trans-continental cage match
[03:48.20]