| It took us so long to get here
|
| But here really ain’t that special, was it all worth it?
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| Was it all you hoped for and wished for?
|
| And I remember the daydreams of a pre-teen boy on Grandmama’s porch
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| Motley crew of ashy knee colored boys yelling «That's my car!» |
| when the nice
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| ones rolled by
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| Bathing in that summer afternoon sunset
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| Heads flat on the concrete, eyes straight into the sky
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| As to drown out the smog and drug transactions we were obviously surrounded by
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| One day, I’mma make it, but what is «it»? |
| Objects? |
| Things?
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| And it’s all to realize that «calm», it really ain’t that calm
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| And the struggle is much more enjoyable when the end ain’t clutched
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| Like the moment you realize you’re consumed with first-world problems
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| I guess that means you made it
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| But it’s eerie how uncomfortable it is when we get too comfortable
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| When they closin' all the curtains to convince you that it’s night time
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| Don’t believe 'em, don’t believe 'em
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| And when they tell you it’s a must-have and you can’t live without it
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| Listen you don’t need it, you don’t need it
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| And when they tell you sweet this and only this is beautiful
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| Tell 'em I don’t see it, I don’t see it
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| Don’t believe 'em, you don’t need it, I don’t see it
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| I don’t see it
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| It’s kinda like that notion that if you accept these set of notions
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| Then your soul’s premium’s secure, right?
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| And you’re searching for new mountains to climb as if you conquered the first
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| one
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| You ain’t done, you just comfy!
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| And it seems like your soul’s tenacity been done moved to the suburbs
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| And them neatly aligned trees and perfectly manicured lawns
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| And them safe schools and parks is a good place to raise a beer belly, right?
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| And them identical strip malls on every corner of your mind can feel a little
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| claustrophobic, right?
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| And it’s there, you realize that there is no «there»
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| Cause this type of perfect, boy it just ain’t worth it
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| Don’t you dare close them curtains, it ain’t night time
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| And you don’t need another object
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| And that right there is not beauty
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| Homie, it’s eerie how uncomfortable it is when we get too comfortable
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| When they closin' all the curtains to convince you that it’s night time
|
| Don’t believe 'em, don’t believe 'em
|
| And when they tell you it’s a must-have and you can’t live without it
|
| Listen you don’t need it, you don’t need it
|
| And when they tell you sweet this and only this is beautiful
|
| Tell 'em I don’t see it, I don’t see it
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| Don’t believe 'em, you don’t need it, I don’t see it
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| I don’t see it |