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letra de little mouse - adrean weaver

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[verse]
i don’t ever talk about race
but lately it’s been in my face
these people are testing my faith
wasn’t cut from a cloth so it’s hard to relate

and regardless of how many times we spake
you could never really understand my case
gotta play it cool when the terms are not
coldest hearts when the words are hot

but oh me, they don’t really want to understand
oh well, they just really want the upper hand
odell, but who am i to speak?
who am i to teach? who am i to preach?

i don’t try to be someone i’m not
i don’t give anything all that i’ve got
life can get hard but it gets even harder
whenever you’re caught up in reaching the top

and that’s top of the mountain
that’s top of the list
when you topple just watch who will stop and prevent
you from calling it quits
while you’re balling you’re fist
all in all they applaud when you claw and resist

the temptation of letting it all go
some others are waldo
but that’s to be expected
we all can be neglected

i ventured a little further from my roots
but don’t think i’m not serving the truth
a servant that’s certaintly loose
my precision is swift like i learned it from bruce

if i’m honest, i’m tired of writing
i don’t think that the commas could change it
not sure if i’d really repeat what i speak
if i knew all the problems it came with

outro for my introspection
quick to listen, my essential weapon
slow to speakeasy, prohibit your habits
the season is splendid and i’m hunting wabbits

i think i can kid with a serious tone
i feel like a kid with the eerieist dome
when can a house be considered a home?
why are they bothered by living alone?

thought about speaking but don’t want to bother you
don’t even know if my words would be audible
some people flip the script like it’s an audible
love is the key but we see it as optional

optimal levels, i settle in portions
my life is metal, never felt an endorphin
i like to meddle in affairs of distortion
i might unsettle from this barren -ssortment

i, know what it’s like to be left
but hardly am i ever right
i wonder, my chin isn’t cleft
but this crimson is cleansing my sin into white

fred sanford, hands redd as a fox
transparent, i’m apparently not
i, thought i would change with the name
and reclaim my old flame but i’m feeling the same

so, back to the drawing board
if i draw a sword i might start a war
but, that doesn’t give me a reason
to give into demons that fight ’til i’m sore

plus, i’m told that my heart is of gold
but i feel my comp-ssion is parked in the back
i’m willing to give but i know that’s darker than black
i don’t have a heart like that

- adrean weaver

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