A Bright Idea
Because I mistrust
All my body is placed beneath a thief's magnifying glass
My voice is held between a velvet glove and stale light
Will the wicked overtake me
Are my actions those of a howled whisper breaking form
Reduced to the junction of life and a horrid history
Beneath my head and heart lies a land of technicolor
Own nothing, been robbed of peace
The housebreakers, took and
Magnified the flaws of my thought to be stronghold
Leaving the sanctity of my body
As transparent as the act
Of stone kissing
Glass
Breaking
Honestly I have no idea what I believe in
Momma said a youngin was haunted up by them demons
Now a days I never pray I just exchange a lowly fate with a cosmic horror and wonder if the score has been paid
Do they even see a boy, I don't believe in them ploys
I would like to think the universe was bashful and coy
And maybe I could stand a chance if I unsettled from the sand but I can't even think about cause it's hard to advance
I guess the one thing I believe is my next cash advance
I'm reaping from the field of bad capitalism
I think that strange fruit have their roots in my existentialism
I think most isms can end a life
So I think about my privilege and the word I be spittin
Cause it's a gift to be this fucking gifted
All my body is placed beneath a thief's magnifying glass
My voice is held between a velvet glove and stale light
Will the wicked overtake me
Are my actions those of a howled whisper breaking form
Reduced to the junction of life and a horrid history
Beneath my head and heart lies a land of technicolor
Own nothing, been robbed of peace
The housebreakers, took and
Magnified the flaws of my thought to be stronghold
Leaving the sanctity of my body
As transparent as the act
Of stone kissing
Glass
Breaking
Honestly I have no idea what I believe in
Momma said a youngin was haunted up by them demons
Now a days I never pray I just exchange a lowly fate with a cosmic horror and wonder if the score has been paid
Do they even see a boy, I don't believe in them ploys
I would like to think the universe was bashful and coy
And maybe I could stand a chance if I unsettled from the sand but I can't even think about cause it's hard to advance
I guess the one thing I believe is my next cash advance
I'm reaping from the field of bad capitalism
I think that strange fruit have their roots in my existentialism
I think most isms can end a life
So I think about my privilege and the word I be spittin
Cause it's a gift to be this fucking gifted
Credits
Writer(s): Charles Stephens
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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