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lyrics

Jon Watts | Faded | Lyrics

One day I got lost in my shoes.
I was living with bruises,
defending it with two fists.

Bounce to the mountaintop.
Look in the thrift shops.
Find a little nice peice of linen,
living sin,
and
for your pen top,
send it in a tin top.

Listen:
when offense is given,
that's a thin slice of living like a gentleman.

Be a gentle woman.
Women sending signals mixed within
any silly, simple little sentences.

Symptoms include:
a total lack of food

And in a bad mood,
in a sad back room
the synapses conclude
that the fad ends soon

and the mad little savages
that battle rapped
with their mavericky battle axes
entrapped within

another massive fashion magazine's blasephemous tactics said:
"it's just a little harrasment."

We're great.
Your sedatives can keep us sedate.

And while same sex marriage stays state to state
We're going local.
Pick up the mic and throw vocals
in your phonebook. Send it to folks that you know.

look, we're related.
Some thumbsucker's belated
little saint thinks
the same shit is sane so we traded.

Save a bit of peace
as an interesting treat
for when you're jaded.
Fame came late and now it's faded.

I'm playing with my own identity.
Listening in can be free, see

Everyone is blind.
Finding their sight from behind, right
Mind the light.

And assign my problems
so someone can solve them
Look and how my hands
can't stop these goblins

a long bomb's falling
from the bogs of Conchord
where our fathers got lost in the fog.

Our forefathers got lost in Boston.
It's the fault of Lord Baltimore
and it's all the more solemn
for the following of psalms.

Some sons and daughters
of the hypocrites, which,
to the benefit of many,
found themselves giving in to sentimental money.

We're great.
Your sedatives can keep us sedate.

And while same sex marriage stays state to state
We're going local.
Pick up the mic and throw vocals
in your phonebook. Send it to folks that you know.

look, we're related.
Some thumbsucker's belated
little saint thinks
the same shit is sane so we traded.

Save a bit of peace
as an interesting treat
for when you're jaded.
Fame came late and now it's faded.

credits

from Mixed Vice Work EP, released June 25, 2009

license

all rights reserved

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about

Jon Watts Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Quaker poet-producer-songsmith in West Philly.

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