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small comforts - defcee & messiah musik lyrics

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[verse 1]
i have no epiphanies for you, nothing poetic or prettier for you
nothing to hide in a simile or award*winning aesthetic symmetry for you
tell a kid, “this authority’s comin from havin’ to live it or witness it for you.”
and some of ’em say to me, “look, mr. levin, twenty other teachers did this before you.”
huh…d*mn…that’s always when i take a moment to breathe
remember we haven’t been treatin’ these children as more than a quota of needs
or usin’ ’em to grow our reputation, and then taking thе credit for sowing the seeds. deaf to thosе pleas, nothing can drag all the air out the room quite like hope when it leaves
rollin up sleeves, writin’ these songs with a scalpel from thorax to groin
stuck in the talk bout the talk, until we off fishing for beef just to throw back the point
ironic how they tried to keep themselves together by burnin’ they bones after joints
ironic i felt so much happier back when i considered prozac a choice
anger was like an attack dog, didn’t let go once it latched on
if you start strippin’ the violence out of these rhymes, what’s left is a sad song
my life in the deck**started prayin’ the dealer had ran outta bad cards
at my happiest furious, backwards, unworthy, and writin’ the words in these raps wrong

[hook]
paid my dues, and i still came back to feed the meter
i don’t got the answers. i don’t need ’em, either
even if i had ’em, i wouldn’t believe ’em, neither
i don’t got the answers. i don’t need ’em, either

[verse 2]
flattened knuckles on these tracks until they cracked and buckled
eyes jekyll wide finding out that hyde was fashioned from you
first cut went past the muscle, in your head, the cannons rumbled
you relaxed, actin humble, tunnel vision a plasma puzzle
writin’ bars, and flexed your posture, pencil scratchin’ down your life
tired arms were treadin’ water, then you practiced drowning twice
flinched, then winced, and tried to wash those butcher’s hands of power’s price
used defensive self*reflection in the mirror, counting christs
snappin’ vinyl outta spite the only time you pressed a record. extended
helping hands, knew your reach could either be stretched or severed
desperate times, desperate measures, some of you packed blades sharp
enough to carve a twenty*four*karat heart out the chest of pressure
untamed as affection when your love language is vengeance
before violence can lay its hands upon the front page, it’s kinetic
therapy or surgery, either way you bout to open up, or that
one way toward the exit**but it’s blocked by what you won’t confront

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