California Sober - PremRock.mp3

[00:02.085] Yeah
[00:03.346] Off track, betting at the tavern
[00:05.660] Gotta learn you what really gon’ matter
[00:08.582] Ash the urn and it gon’ return her to Saturn
[00:13.199] Yeah
[00:14.809] Yeah
[00:21.512] Yeah
[00:22.395] Arrive five years older, three years late
[00:25.660] Salt and pepper smolder, California sober
[00:28.532] Looking for closure, couldn’t get it through a steel gate
[00:31.527] Should’ve known that I wasn’t getting any closer
[00:34.093] Never knew a February like his shoulder
[00:36.341] Lesson is a lesson every loss, but turn on investment
[00:39.139] Try to break tension
[00:40.595] Could only muster
[00:41.817] “Mind if I say it?”, “Nah”
[00:42.943] You don’t really gotta move on over here
[00:45.506] Going back
[00:46.318] Ten years prior the streetcars lit a-fire
[00:49.322] And bodies dizzy with desire, liar liar
[00:51.589] Tend to flip for the pyre, in a pile
[00:53.094] Let it spiral
[00:54.561] Anxious laugh said with a smile
[00:57.305] Searching for a place to be, offroad
[00:59.607] With the grapes of laugh, mistakenly
[01:01.554] Made the gaff, misplacing keys
[01:03.214] Crossroads and wounded hearts
[01:04.959] They hang signs of vacancy
[01:06.345] Wasn’t “Need to know”
[01:07.622] The approach was rather “Wait and see”
[01:09.135] Omniscient speaker groans
[01:10.772] Foolish lips request “Away from me”
[01:13.102] Pursed together ever tastefully
[01:14.948] We severed bonds, merged and tether
[01:16.747] But far from gracefully
[01:17.808] Fate forced the hand like
[01:19.348] You ever felt robbed of agency?
[01:21.534] Unbalanced ledger tell it plainly
[01:23.523] In language we can understand but strange to read
[01:26.384] Pain exists and drifts in latency
[01:28.384] Yet to be aborted, reservations with the maître d'
[01:31.496] Party of two, and last words famously
[01:33.709] I suppose it just ain’t to be
[01:35.663] And peeling paint from the mural cautiously, faithfully
[01:39.317] Ashamed to see
[01:40.404] It’s not the way that it sits
[01:41.906] It’s the chips and the flakes for me
[01:45.892] Your words had hung like the shows I done
[01:48.198] The soil let it spoil but the prose had sprung
[01:51.148] March to the beat of our chosen drum
[01:53.883] And all roads lead back to the toes I’d run
[01:56.771] Your words had hung like the shows I’d done
[01:59.474] The soil let it spoil but the prose had sprung
[02:02.421] March to the beat of our chosen drum
[02:05.706] For all my clever words, in the end I had none