Pockets
Write a little bit then step outside for a smoke
I'm a song and dance man, maybe a poet
Either way I'm broke, and
If the easy things aren't worth chasing down
Then I'll reach up so high
My feet just brush on the ground
I'm broke
Yeah, I am dirty broke
You hear me? I'm broke
Every gold star I've acquired
Stems from an idol that I admire
It's funny how originality is just a scam
Is my effort just a joke?
Look around me, there ain't much hope
Just a lot to think about
When nobody's home
I didn't really think I'd dig this hole so deep
I just wanted to sing
No one ever knows what I mean
I've got pockets full of my two hands
And no one next to me
Next to me
Rats, balloons, white sheets
I'm dirty cheap
Dirty, innocent, and where I sleep
Subtle words or obvious things
What it means to you
Is not what it means to me
I write because I think I care
I hate destruction does that
Make me unaware?
That bombs could go off in my yard
I'd die soulfully with my pen
And my guitar
I didn't really think I'd dig this hole so deep
I just wanted to sing
No one ever knows what I mean
I've got pockets full of my two hands
And no one next to me
I could try to spend less time drinking wine
And play a pick-pocket pissed passed peace of mind
Maybe spend my free time making rhymes
I'm tired of being broke
I could try to spend less time drinking wine
And play a pick-pocket pissed passed peace of mind
Maybe spend my free time making rhymes
I'm tired of being broke
I'm a song and dance man, maybe a poet
Either way I'm broke, and
If the easy things aren't worth chasing down
Then I'll reach up so high
My feet just brush on the ground
I'm broke
Yeah, I am dirty broke
You hear me? I'm broke
Every gold star I've acquired
Stems from an idol that I admire
It's funny how originality is just a scam
Is my effort just a joke?
Look around me, there ain't much hope
Just a lot to think about
When nobody's home
I didn't really think I'd dig this hole so deep
I just wanted to sing
No one ever knows what I mean
I've got pockets full of my two hands
And no one next to me
Next to me
Rats, balloons, white sheets
I'm dirty cheap
Dirty, innocent, and where I sleep
Subtle words or obvious things
What it means to you
Is not what it means to me
I write because I think I care
I hate destruction does that
Make me unaware?
That bombs could go off in my yard
I'd die soulfully with my pen
And my guitar
I didn't really think I'd dig this hole so deep
I just wanted to sing
No one ever knows what I mean
I've got pockets full of my two hands
And no one next to me
I could try to spend less time drinking wine
And play a pick-pocket pissed passed peace of mind
Maybe spend my free time making rhymes
I'm tired of being broke
I could try to spend less time drinking wine
And play a pick-pocket pissed passed peace of mind
Maybe spend my free time making rhymes
I'm tired of being broke
Credits
Writer(s): Alexander Kenoyer
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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