a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de pennsylvanian patriarchies - allone & the room

you were honest, you were loyal
though the carpet’s made of soil
after hours work and toil
scour arthur conan doyle
eat a modest meal that boiled
from a harvest far from royal
on friday nights, forgetting rod and reel
on harbor plies tried netting knots of eels
on highway sides pick dandelion bouquets
until quantified enough to have a soup made

chorus:
poppy, this pennsylvanian patriarch
taught me in special ways and gave me heart

sonny:
mr. apollo, bright and warm as grandest rays
social b-tterfly-effectiveness kindness clad and brave
enchanting taste, enhanced his brain, even p-ssing strangers
gravitate and had to stay. your p-ssion made so much sense
you’d carry weight that atlas may fabricate
and cast ashamed embarr-ssed faces
triumphant habits traded cabinet sp-ce for trophies
showing he helped a path be paved in body building’s champion age
however heralded, humility had remained an active trait
despite his heaps of accolades. meanwhile he was a family man and labored
more than half his days moving for his sister anne tufano’s pay
where even there he was dashed with praise for immaculate aid
rewind to back when a & p wages paid and bus stop romances laid
tracks to train two kids to laugh on dates. when jacqueline came
love bore three more for your n-ssau place
as the way you handled weights you actually raised the bar as far as
comp-ssionate dad and parent’s, taming, didactic, tactics played
despite your muscular m-ssive frame that had came to greet us
with a saddened gaze to act dismayed in response to the shackles, chains
of atrophy knowing life had to change but why with so bad a plague?
your sampson state had to wane with alopecia receding life-line
that madly maimed in malignant mask to raid with heart attacks
to take his last intake of air and magenta that cascades in majestic
vascular lanes of a map of veins in his lasting shape and masquerade
in a casket’s dank masticating captive gape and bade him “p-ss away”
like that’s a phrase that accurately captures such a tragic phase?
when the dazzling sagely dancing blazing youthful eyes were consumed
confined by a cardiac kevorkian. key in ignition, switching existence
to nixed to euthanize his beautiful light and brutalized any chance
i thought i knew that i’d have to see what’s true or right or what to do in life
but the nail in the coffin crucified my views and mind since you had died

chorus:
poppy, this pennsylvanian patriarch
taught me in special ways and gave me heart
poppy this pennsylvanian patriarch
taught me in several ways and gave me heart

nothing could come between us since birth
but something would, and six feet of this earth
a pine box, a shrine block, i cry lots and when my thoughts
visit you time stops and my mind rots, as i plot, cause i’m not
imbecilic, i know there’s no way to quell this, even as i spell this
i know if i ever perform this song, no matter the response
i’ll loathe it belongs in my experiences i drew along and knew to log
as a tribute to all your attributes and the awful fact that you are gone
and all the seconds i’ll spend in attempts to implement
the precious lessons you lent to render splendid events
it’s an intense detriment to my upset unsettled mess of a head
to be aggressively expected to accept or make sense of the fact
you’ve left and your death really meant i can never again hear
a word you’ve said or peddle my debts and regrets and success
or whatever i’ve met or i’ve penned to a man to a mentor, a friend
i don’t mean to let my aching
censor my efforts in making
a portrait that perfection painted
but of course my pain is plainly
proof of all your pristine paving
of a road you drove to safely
arrive at any destination
and successfully affect it greatly

chorus

you were honest you were loyal
now your house is made of soil
after decades work and toil
you’ve joined arthur conan doyle
our blood and tear ducts boil
as your marble crown is royal
on friday nights tried grasping it’s all real
on sudden flights shocked, unable to feel
while condolences are handed out with bouquets
wish you’d tear them up and show me how the soup’s made

- allone the room

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS