letra de my nephew has a white pickup truck - bones
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stars up in the sky and both of the windows down
in the pickup, picking up some more from the corner, no use in running out
never had money but i had a lot of doubt
still got it, no matter how many people shout
i get freaked when i think about deep time, now i’m weak
i think every storm’s a dream as we watch the world sleep
trying to think too hard ’bout the matter that lies outside your reach
what makes you truly think our brains can fathom what it truly means to think?
is it a reaction or is it just an outcome?
like my life without selling one alb-m
a lot of things changed since my life back howell
had to make use of my hours
had to make use of my minutes, had to make use of my seconds
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