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the grey side of good - little tealeif lyrics

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[verse 1]
great, another week of my mates
another street i’ll stray down, yet no dollar to waste
find a new thing, stay positive
find a rabbit, then follow it

get on the 51 bus
pray you don’t miss it, back to the city
like f*ck i missed it
metro gloom, glue and shoot for the moon, find a way to stay tuned
if i can’t find a job by june, i’m f*cked
lucked out and it weighs a tonne
no job, no home, no pills, no girls, no fun
a toxic event just devoured my sun
but turns out it was a tune i heard from 2001

i’m dancing from six beers and a bump
they said “stay tuned” or “wired”? now i’m not sure which one
you’re fidgeting like you just lied to your mum
while i’m stopping every strangе just to ask for some gum

hands in pocket, we do thе shuffle
i could’ve left with them but i’m in a bubble
and m*ffled sounds played to crowds drawn in deep, do the rounds
of a beat i only keep, with my eyes facing the sky not the ground

[verse 2]
i’m on the grey side of good
i’m on the seventh round of shooting greygoose
and if you choose to abuse do it the best that you could
was advice spewed to light fuel, to give an excuse

and i’ve found myself in a rut
between the bars and the sofas, man, i’ve somehow slipped up
whatever happened to whylin’ out and getting f*cked
and it not becoming something that you ought to give up?
see, i’ve fallen down more times than i’ve tried to get up
i ain’t stuck, i just ain’t in a rush
i ain’t an out*and*out alcoholic as such
though i’m aware that i’m out and about a bit too much

and even saying you’ll stop in a week
is a tall tale your tongue twists as you speak
spinning this bleak sh*t to me is just like conning a thief
so jog on mon ami, so long man, i ain’t wrong, believe

[verse 3]
another cloud’s weighing down like a colossal discomfort
to tame the greyest of the gooses to then go and succumb to it
addiction in the very slightest dims even the brightest
why is it that some can get away while others suffer in silence?

and it’s not like they’ve been exposed less than we
there’s something in our heads that’s much darker than this beat
it reeks with questions of surroundings or simply our chemistry
the net that traps us and the ties that bind hang like a funeral wreath

and if there’s one thing that i’ve come to regret
it’s the fact that i still smoke cigarettes
not the days that i’ve lost penning songs you won’t get
nor the nights that i’ve lost aiming just to get wrecked
so set in fashion with the typical of hitting the bottom
be it literally p*ssing or metaphorically, now i’ve forgotten
rotton, i’ve been trod on, still no good girl though i want one
and i’ll stop drinking, i’ll be on the wagon, even for a moment

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