Red Handed
Watch me trip over my own shit as I sprint towards the door
Ain't no yellow brick road no more
Know you wanna go home
Hold my hand if you wanna
But know tomorrow is no better
The first step is admittance
And I don't know wanna recover
In the general admission
I smell like cheap marijuana
In the back of the caravan
Man that look like my momma's
Staring back at the mirror
Eyes baggy as sinus infection
This shit started as art
Looks like I switched my intentions
On the same sidewalk
You still won't stop talking
About crossing
Disregard the other side of the street
You might get flattened
Not left in the dark
But really was I left with
Son of an angel
I eat my feelings for breakfast
Got a list of complaints that make me look like a child
And a novel of thanks I'll list in front of my album
If I'm out of small talk
Its cause I don't go out much
Muster up strength
If pain allow
For someone who would never
Lift a finger for a stranger or a neighbor
Getting pretty good at pointing the blame
I'm working on my aim
More concerned with that than anything
For someone who would never lift a finger
For a favor for a friend
Caught me red handed once again
I can't seem to find the balance in this
Watched the feeling fade
Felt as integrity followed
Can't find my face in the mirror
I spot the shape in the shadow
That mean I'm basically better
But the lines still blurry
Look through every last pixel
This picture don't have a story
Bought into it unknowingly
Hoping that I could hold it
Fell through my fingers
Materialistic moments
Only captured for the show off
Take my own go at coping
The long road certain
But the shortcut I ain't sure of
Problem is the pay
Been living day to day job
Went from colored in to gray
To scraping shit off plastic plates
I've been putting on that makeup
I don't know that it'll stay
I've watched it get washed
As I stood in the rain
Everyday I'm at the mantel
I still manage to complain
Would never say the vice
Has to do with the vase
Ain't no yellow brick road no more
Know you wanna go home
Hold my hand if you wanna
But know tomorrow is no better
The first step is admittance
And I don't know wanna recover
In the general admission
I smell like cheap marijuana
In the back of the caravan
Man that look like my momma's
Staring back at the mirror
Eyes baggy as sinus infection
This shit started as art
Looks like I switched my intentions
On the same sidewalk
You still won't stop talking
About crossing
Disregard the other side of the street
You might get flattened
Not left in the dark
But really was I left with
Son of an angel
I eat my feelings for breakfast
Got a list of complaints that make me look like a child
And a novel of thanks I'll list in front of my album
If I'm out of small talk
Its cause I don't go out much
Muster up strength
If pain allow
For someone who would never
Lift a finger for a stranger or a neighbor
Getting pretty good at pointing the blame
I'm working on my aim
More concerned with that than anything
For someone who would never lift a finger
For a favor for a friend
Caught me red handed once again
I can't seem to find the balance in this
Watched the feeling fade
Felt as integrity followed
Can't find my face in the mirror
I spot the shape in the shadow
That mean I'm basically better
But the lines still blurry
Look through every last pixel
This picture don't have a story
Bought into it unknowingly
Hoping that I could hold it
Fell through my fingers
Materialistic moments
Only captured for the show off
Take my own go at coping
The long road certain
But the shortcut I ain't sure of
Problem is the pay
Been living day to day job
Went from colored in to gray
To scraping shit off plastic plates
I've been putting on that makeup
I don't know that it'll stay
I've watched it get washed
As I stood in the rain
Everyday I'm at the mantel
I still manage to complain
Would never say the vice
Has to do with the vase
Credits
Writer(s): No Legs
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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