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lirik lagu not every goose shits gold – chris power

seventh month
seventh day
the seventh wave hit
second son
from second one the second favourite
second statement fake
already hippo spinnin’ bull and hatred
recommend you take me with about a hundred forty pounds of salt and bake it
album barely play yet
china shakin’
i’m a mistake often mistaken
soggy jesus
flaky milk of marian
carryin wine for every wino sick of their bas-m-nt
debased and impatient
yet another 20-somethin’ century patient
moanin’ about the monotony of modern living
yeah he needs some better medication
now he’s patient
anger managed
still manage to find some frustration
and so far yo i find it just fine
i finally found some faces to take some blame from
make it mine
if i could only get up to face ’em
half-measured
i’m tryin’ to say something
but what?
eyes on them words with a maze in them
thought they the ones that would cut
yo though make it so i can start chasin’ them dreams!
running me through them nightmares
always seems just out of reach
a dying skyline coughing up in smoky hopes of momentary breach
the fire’s ceased
but we gon always breath a little different
first time i got robbed i learned it pays to be indifferent
pack right off your back sort of a habitat
what you got?
you ain’t havin’ that
never yours to begin with
rule of paw bigger
and if they decide it you’re finished
administrative error!
so don’tcha care too much
get too into touch and try to make my little mark upon your era
try to uphold the history of tryin’ to be the most of me
the guy i’m ‘sposed to be
i’m paintin’ ponies golden
close as close can be
real colour shinin’ through like drunken seuss
acidic poetry
but i most definitely am not a poet
yo just cuz i know it don’t mean it sinks in
more like soupin’ up my crib than helpin’ kids in crisis outta soup kitchens
who am i kidding?
what you do
not what you say
maybe it’s time i clock a shift

nyquillic sands
permanently exhausted
sinking whole but i’m too tired to stop it
guess that means i’m stuck
inferiority complex
still not better than god
but he better watch it
to the brothers and sisters i’ll never know
i never want to
so keep your f-cking messages
manage to f-ck it up and leave ya worse than when i met ya
lack of me for the best of ya
or maybe that’s just me talking
maybe it’s the lack of you that i seek cuz someone knowin’ me is a problem i ain’t seekin’ no bottom of
still waitin’ for myself
deny reality the satisfaction
i wanna be when i grow up
i wanna see if i show up
‘it’s you from the future
and we gotta go right now’
matter of fact fashion
able but late
i’ll take it if it takes me somewhere less than awake instead of sleeping
revert to the kind of man that only lifts two fingers for a being living the same struggle as i am
never chose its age
species
race
path of its present
past fated horizons
inevitably my fault we share in nothin’ besides that
extra personal ‘vert
i despise that

now i know what you’re thinking:
‘chris you mumble too much
we can’t hear ya.’
…ok so maybe i don’t
or that is to say i do mumble too much
but i mean
aw f-ck
let’s try this again
i think i know what i’m thinking:
you stumble enough
they can’t steer ya
no direction
but it’s mine
you don’t co-sign?
fine
your decision
and it’s if my vision to crash the ship into the seventh wave
i don’t need your permission

collision frission
sure as h-ll beats monopoly
sensory bored and loaded
game over for the possibility of properly holding property
probably cost myself another job
become so hard to please
prophecies self-unfulfilling
horizon hazy
new address oughta f-ck with the billing
heavy on my chest
i must address what the f-ck i’ve been feeling
depressed
aggravated
aggro graded less than average
so i overact to contribute my p-ssage
failing every test
i’ve been dealing disaster when they wanted patience
i swear i was
but that’s not what they said!
they said ‘chris ya gotta face it –
scale of one to hundred you dalmation with this self-pity facelift of a backstory’
don’t worry only 9 more to get through then i’ll get back to the burger shop
workin’ beside old ladies who can’t retire
hands shaking
droppin’ trays
how’s that for purpose
huh?
billions rot in vaults
how’s that for purpose
huh?

never went in debt i never woulda cried fate
bankers campin’ my ‘go’
collector’s fee: $200 fixed rate
i never got evicted then i never learned to resist the impulse to waste my cash on shiny things
all of this stupid sh-t to fill the sadness growing inside me
creeping through until i’ve learned my place in life:
goin’ on beside me
ride this bag of flesh for what it’s worth
yo i’m gon’ guess i got ’bout 16 bars left so i ain’t gonna waste a f-ckin’ breath until you f-ckers get this ain’t just punchin’ this in
my 905 ain’t nine to five
ain’t no d-mn six
no downside nine
it’s what ya call a bus late
full
broken or just plain ol’ out of service
now you’re runnin’ out the door and hopin’ for another cuz it’s already two buses and a taxi down to this d-mn factory floor
might make it late
but might not
but in this town that’s what you got
see hopes are temporary
make the most cuz others hopin’ too and they’ll be hopin’ that you’re not
but not today!
ran 20 minutes of the way in the snow in some worn out steel toes but i made it
‘oh we just made a call to your agency
we don’t need you no more
think you could come back tomorrow morning at 4?
that’d be great

now say thanks!’

- chris power

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