People. Dancing shadows on a wall. People. Talking pictures on a wall.(and they talk, and they talk, and they talk …and I can't breathe there's no air in here at all. Just too many people. Here they come, to take it all. People. Smiling lips, and painted eyes. People Endless words, and clever lies. and they talk, and they talk, and they talk, and they talk And they talk till I can't breathe. There's no end to this at all. Now I'm one of the people here they come to take it all. Stop. Hiding behind your face. One of the endless people hiding behind a face. Stop. Hiding behind your face. One of the endless people hiding behind a face. stop Stop.
Man the internet really has changed everything. For better and worse lmao. 30years ago something like that would never happen. Interesting how quickly things change.
@@thatdudeoverthere2188 I believe he meant that it's cool that people all over the world can find good music, but it aint cool that Whitey's music gets drowned out by the swarm of whatever mumble rap incomprehensible garbage that has more 'mainstream appeal' than Whitey's music.
Coz he doesn't think he's a genius. He doesn't sell training shoes and clothes. Because he doesn't put his plastic girlfriend in your newsfeed. They are a few reasons
I woke up to this playing from my television having never heard it before. It inspired me to write this. Cold Feet It was raining last night. My feet hung outside the other side of the blanket, and I just lied there and let my cold soles and heels disturb my rest. Maybe it was less my cold feet keeping me awake and more all the people I’d started penning within chapters of my life that skated before it made sense to me or the overarching plot. Either way, I didn’t sleep. I needed sleep and didn’t get it. So I slept past the sunrise and up until the brink of afternoon, where my unbrushed teeth had finally coerced me out of my busted bed frame and mattress, into the bathroom and in front of a mirror. I look so cold and spent and I know I’m starting to speak that same temperature. I used to love showing off what I thought I had to offer, and I still will but I don’t feel the way I need to to know I should still. I’ve denied the signs of wilting for a pretty long time, and I think it’s catching up with me. The ways I used to operate are exceeding affordable upkeep costs. Does it mean my torch is burning out if my face is getting frost bitten? Maybe it’s just a rough winter. I don’t know, I hope so.
mi novia me enseño esta canción y enserio que agradezco su buen gusto aún q se que después me dolerá esta canción al recordar la primera vez que me enseño esta canción 💔
