Waystation
| Title | Waystation |
|---|---|
| Artist | Jake the Adversary |
| Album | Tabiya |
| Release Date | (not set) |
| Description | ? |
| Lyrics | [Chorus 1] I’m in a- I’m in a fuckin’ waystation Fuckface, fuck fakes, hug patients I died, and now I’m in a fuckin’ waystation Gotta' run a jawbone in the basement I live my life inside a fuckin’ waystation My name’s Jake, I can brave the Mohaine then After that his mind’s on a fader Adversary ride the Creator [Verse 1] Sling guns if you want - I don’t Rather waste books with my arts - y’know Charge - reload, gotta find Dark Tower Hard hours in the cards, but I’ve known about that all my life Stuck in Jake Chambers Made a lot of games, dreamin’ runaway capers Stayed a lot of knaves acting unafraid, paid for Staying with the wraiths - watching Funimat’ later (Bluh) Raver, ranter, the people feel it deepen It’s a little bad mind and a lot of psilacetin I’m ready to get drawn through the circle and escape But I’ve got a big turtle in the way, not a jape Just that in some other universe, they’re calling to me Don’t matter who’s on, shoes on, follow the beam You’ll maybe get there, and won’t need a holler from me I’m standing here 'til someone takes away the wall on my scene [Chorus 2] I’m in a- I’m in a fuckin’ waystation Fuckface, fuck fakes, hug patients I died, and now I’m in a fuckin’ waystation Gotta' run a jawbone in the basement I live my life inside a fuckin’ waystation My name’s Jake, I can brave the Mohaine then One who holds the keys, go then There are others worlds than these [Verse 1] And when you die, maybe you’ll be in a theater, stuck With everyone you ever met or talked to, believers And the atheists, watch the whole movie of your life in a stadium You can’t leave, just fall to mania So peep a panoply of watchers in masks Commentary every single stray thought that you’ve had Taint all of your maps, straight grovel and crack 'Til Jake calls from the back, it ain’t novel, relax I’ve made novels and tracks, I got worse shit Half the time, solemn as ass, the rest worthless Half the time, calm, and I laugh, a messed wordsmith Langors for as long as my lack prevents purchase Not a Maine thing, lamping in a King locale And fuck pen-page, I’ll just put some ink to valves And like the Dark Tower, half my fans on the fence, boy Like me more for where I could’ve been than my endpointYou might also like |