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letra de the stockholm syndrome - guante & big cats

[prolyphic]
i picked up and left at dawn’s early breath with no warning
headed west with a heavy chest on a cold morning
no letter to explain why; there ain’t time
i left my room as empty as the day i arrived
i took what i can fit inside a tote bag
cans of soup, beans, matches, a knife and a note pad
a road map that’s outdated, meds that won’t last
wrote my name and id number on the insides of my clothes tags
and entered the december woods, never looked back
i stayed close to the highway, every 6 hours see what the signs say
roads were blocked off, bodies of those who froze lay stiff
stripped by other refugees and condors
i marched forth through the forest green, eating corn and beans
p-ssed by the endless fences of those quarantined
lost in the scheme nature built
primitive survival never learned, only taught manual labor sk!lls
got what it takes to k!ll, just not enough strength
spent the day trying to build a makeshift tent
when i awoke, my body was so cold i couldn’t move
the matches got wet, trying to stretch the last of the food
exhausted and awake, finally reached new york state
but ive been stricken with a fever and cough i can’t shake
i’ve taken the last of the medication, hope i can make it
to catch a train at penn station
destination? as far as fifty bucks can take me…

we are waking up in our caskets…
only to find, our lovers are gone

[medium zach]
he’d get her booze and food, not much room to move
talkin’ to other guys, they’re like “who’s the dude?”
open relationship, out of sight, out of mind
trying out the other rides but none produce dollar signs
she still ain’t leavin’, rent free, a meal ticket
a paid bar tab, she’s still drinkin
convinced it ain’t that bad, although it isn’t fair
having to make a late night visit to urgent care
put it in the air, hands on her wrists like cuffs
held ‘em above her head, pressed against the gl-ss cut
when they broke through, too drunk, unaware of his weight
knows he still cares, and couldn’t bear her escape

[brandon allday]
let me find something to write on before the night gone
school sent him home for mutilatin’ his flesh
teared up plus retrace my steps: am i wrong?
that’s amphibious; d-mn that’s hideous
live broadcast from the colonized
four in the morning, the lights still on
haven’t paid the bill in six months, they still runnin’
my grandmother asleep, she not his mother
pigeons come home to roost; she knows the truth
calls me still sayin’ please talk to him
block party, open to all villagers
well aware of the war but it still occurs

we are waking up in our caskets…
only to find, our lovers are gone

[guante]
(and on the journey i see) the police believe
that they are white blood cells and we are the disease
the politicians want peace
but only the kind they can inject into our forearms
freedom ain’t free; but budget cuts at state and local levels
put that fee outta reach
and my reason for breathin’ these days
is one more step underneath my feet
this isn’t my belief, it’s just what i been told
this isn’t a retreat, i’m tryin’ to get home
this isn’t true love, it’s a crisis yo
this isn’t patriotism, this is the stockholm syndrome
…i wake up in south dakota
amber waves a memory, purple mountains closer
p-sserby with rumors of a border up at the rockies
triage me and redline me: you can’t stop me
i’m going, going back, back to cali, cali
with br-ss knuckles and a backpack
so don’t gimme that “nothing’ to see here, return to your homes
or duck and cover,” motherf-cker no
after everything you’ve taken from me
you better pray this sickness keeps crawlin’
‘cause if i had an extra second for breath or could spare a step
i would carve her name in every one of your necks

- guante big cats

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