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lirik lagu katarréo – stuart clark

[intro]
it’s five forty*three
i was wondering, uh, what the latest is

[verse]
i wish i didn’t use my friends as therapists
i wish i didn’t waste so much time being scared of it
i wish my authenticity didn’t get me embarrassed
i wish i wasn’t mocked by friends, teachers, and grandparents
for every other thought and desire
i wish they would admit that they had conspired
to make me look like a liar
so i don’t have to take the heat for every time that they promised me water
and then doused me in fire
call that a bait and a switch
just throw my hate in a ditch
or a grave or a pit
wherever my body lands, so that i can stay with it
and it’ll stay with me, locked inside of my bones
the ones i wish i’d never jumped when n0body was home
man i wish i wasn’t proud of my inevitability
i wish that i could say what’s been k!lling me
i wish the family name wasn’t held as a responsibility
i wish that she was into me physically
not just for the laughs and the good conversation
being funny’s great til you got no one to hang with
so now i’m hoping and i’m prayin that somebody understands
what it’s like to have acquaintances who all have friends
man i hope that i can pay my dad back
for every semester that i threw in the trash
after i had moved the tassel that was on my grad cap
when i was wishing they would diss me so that i could clap back
i wonder if they’ll miss me when i’m dead and gone
who should i give the rights to for all these second*rate songs?
third kid, golden child, should have gotten it right
i’m just tryna survive, but i should be living for the light, yeah
broke out the chamber but i’m still hearing the echoes
no catch me in the shadows holding on when i should let go
can’t wait to say “good morning” but i never say “good night”
sign off with “peace” but i never stand and fight, no
it’s oxymoronic, i’m tryna move on it
it’s parasitic, bubonic, i might just die to resolve it
but we scr*pped that album, so i suppose i should keep living
but i don’t want this life of sleeping, working, and sinning
if the lord don’t forgive me, i’mma still try my best
but what is my “best” when i can never get some rest?
no the rest of me’s in shambles, like i’m walking in a bramble
and i can’t heal myself with a pen or a piano, nah
trust me i’ve tried, on the sea catching rides
it comes and goes in waves, shm on the tides
and i’d adjust the sails, but i’m trapped in all these currents
i keep fighting the urge to light it all up and burn it
if i’m already breaking down, what more could i lose?
i guess my hope, i suppose my fuse, yeah
i’m sorry, you really weren’t meant to see this
no, i don’t know how to redeem this

- stuart clark

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