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work in progress - allone (usa) lyrics

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workin’ progress
we’re all a work in progress
do you progress your work?
we’re all a worth to process
how do you process your worth?

i went from h.i. to playwrite
unsavory cr-ss piercings to favoring rap writtens
from raw stunts to allone
depraved with my lashed skin and burnt flaming hands in cinema
to the cadence and fast rhythms the aims of the past switching
johnny knoxville: breaking my back living
tennessee williams, beast with language of vast tinting
menagerie gl-ss prisms, a slave to the craft penning
note factor: no matter the place of my ambition
my brain isn’t stagnant, in a state of it’s transition
with creative and grand visions
a hurricane and wingspan kissing, (it’s the b-tterfly effect.)
i was crazed in the beginning, but i tried to vent it
dependent on making up planned fiction
with a wonder i invent, and now i’m clear headed
with ambiguous sad images as how shutter island ended
and whenever i’m progressive, i accept it, it’s expected

we’re all a work in progress
do you progress your work?
we’re all a worth to process
how do you process your worth?

ideally i’d wish i’d whisper sweet nothings in your ears
but really i’ll just speak so much you’ll wish i wasn’t there
my heart isn’t encased in any sort of picture frame
it ripped the cage and slipped away (much like the grinch’s eh?)
it’s got a resting ridiculous rate of 1,000 words a minute pace
and those words tend to escape unexpectedly intense and insane
my birthday cards get lengthy and mushy quickly
crammed cramped confessionals encouraging fulfilling living
they say more than most parents to their kids by fifty
it’s to make up for not seeing you enough because i’m busy
and simply to amend that i’m too broke for gift giving
silly and interestingly: i scrawl ’em while driving from the gift shop
my kodak moment’s the cutting room floor of hitchc-ck
most of my favorite clothing is thrift bought
and more often than not: i get depressed instead of p-ssed off
i’m just not the guy who’s gonna yell if/when we’re fighting
it’s actually unexciting, i’ll talk rationally and nicely
till you ask me to leave, brightening, since i’m not dramatically enticing
“where’s the p-ssion wheres the lightning?”
honestly, i find conflict frightening
and i’d rather tell you i was wrong
and that i hate myself in writing
than turn beet red and pretend i know the right thing
and whenever i’m rejected, i accept it, it’s expected

we’re all a work in progress
do you progress your work?
we’re all a worth to process
how do you process your worth?

chrono-miser afraid to waste time, as i spend it’s
directly affecting my self-worth and value, taxing my connections
to fulfill personal objectives, unable to find a balance so i’m left in a deficit
depressing: we got all this baggage, but we ain’t going anywhere
take my leave of absence, can’t move on, i see you everywhere
so i take the pen (pin) out feelin’ explosive like a grenadier
the last several years…regrets and fears
exes speared through the middle like an asterisk
had you on my arm, as the tattoo is, you had to skip
now you’re only on my mind, show me there’s a sign
totally despite supporters in corner, i’ve been lonely in my life
there’s a pulling in my throat, every breath i take
heart is overworked, shackled by a heavy weight
pressure behind my eyes, like when a levy breaks
wishing there’s a penny placed there almost every day
my lips twitch itching to frown, at any given minute now
i’ll be six in the ground, roots writhing around
went from two peas within a pod, to ruined beans that sit and rot
i choose to scream at mythic monstrous
dubiously existent gods, as ship or water
lip or dock, you never know the role you’re cast:
sitting bottom/swim in salt on which side of the fishing rod
here’s a hint for ya’ll, maybe there’s a different option…
i feel like i sink and bob, bonded to lines that trick those caught
even in difficult thoughts, my ending hope’s to live out long
and give the citizens upon this coast and spinning rock
some hope to grip upon, keep em hooked, stringing along and singing songs
and whenever i’m connective, i accept it, it’s expected

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