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lirik lagu verstehen – nick zazove

[verse 1: kid c.]
lately, i’m thinking of leaving my home
but i’ve got like twenty, i’m trapped in a dome
there’s one in the internet that i begin resenting
it’s consuming me, taking me whole
then there’s the one that i want but i never received
it’s to live in america, that is my dream
never kidding, it’s draining my soul, can’t you see?
keep on wishing that i’ll make it out of my streets
f-ck this year, okay?
i just need a minute, recollect my time and place
heaven isn’t close enough so i’ll be here to stay
i’ve been staying up so long, it’s fried my f-cking brain
so i take a break, pause
everybody dealt their cards, this ain’t blackjack
aiming for that 21 and after, guess i’m out, fact
maybe true, maybe wrong, contemplating on this song
i just need a minute, i just need a feeling i can hold

[bridge 1: nick]
i could find myself conforming to the ending
i know it’s not the exit but the rest seems so irrelevant
past the odium with the magic slumber pendant
i lie within my penchant for a cluttering of census
once is enough for an amendment to upend it
shutterbugs will subdivide to pluggers and the nexus
f-ckless theft as prefaced with the overarching tempest
the rhetoric that bites the menace, grabs his cash and bolts

[verse 2: nick]
i could blow the world up, fly away and fish for stardom
on the s.s. anti-pity zipping parallel to harlem
chicago cradles brainstorms, the next day sunny parchment
in a whitewashed conundrum: am i catchy or the carnage?
the city takes me in, the acid pulls my soul out
a pretty train to nowhere in a tacit cull of pr-nouns
a blackout in my death house, the mascot of my hometown
where faceless hamlets rally off their jackpots tied to know-hows
supposedly, yet those that wish for t-tles far from being there
dissociate from f-cking ‘hind the covers from their forebears
the real heir’s a crackpot streaking paper through a big house
his blood-line as the arbitrary threshold for a payout
his city smokes cigars, leaning counterfeit on brick walls
vultures turn-ta bogarts draped in bounty stripped from lip gloss
ulcers herd a postcard glazed with flowery glitz on thin wads
while pushing envelopes through open hearts to mold the gridlock
it’s kinda funny when sublime becomes the label
for sake of worldly visuals, head below the naval blood
step aside, headless in disguise above your pedigree
chi-raq is a city independent of your energy
(it better be) cuz then we’d rest in pieces of your township
fragments pepped up heart strings binding galleons to fountains
of youth shooting h at god’s distinct diplopic councils
whose hand-me-down contemporaries juck their firepower:
forget-me-not (once again) parceled into politics
the monolith of countervailing contour-couched reconnaissance
i run with none to hide, zero-day collage asymmetry
which means the mind is philistine regardless of your imagery
crucified on michigan ave., i can’t lose
i’m a missionary tipped off like a cash cow to the tabloids
my armor shines with amber off an actualized de factoid-
honed by fire hydrant tyrants, hopscotch kings, and tinny alloys

[bridge 2: nick]
i could find myself conforming to a trend
while i know it’s not the lesson, the rest breathes so indelibly
past the podium with the casket open ended
i lie within distention clutching pension every sentence
once marks a gruff elocution, not the answer
thunderstruck attire clubs the junction and the caster
f-ckless theft as prefaced with the oligarchy’s temptress
the rhetoric that bites the gremlin, feeds him cash and grows
but if i mention troth will i expose the lonesome debit?
a templet reaches holy when the temple cloaks the respite
but if the petals speckle in the open, won’t they spend it?
with a tether laced to nether ledgers pulling out his ticker’s stent-
a motion for the treasure trove to weather truncheoned spectors-
beating death? my pleasure senses never rest, i’ll splay my message
in a coded dub-indemnity: love over a legacy
spread the wings and sketch a better bench-marked “in memory.”

- nick zazove

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