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letra de a kind of grim - red ants

my soul grieves like the ( ) of a dying pension
receiving his last rights
on his very last night
lots of memories of his soon to be past life
at night, i walk streets of asphalt and concrete
the way behind me lies a very long past
and i’m still walking underneath the shadow that it cast
kinda like the taste in your mouth that regret makes an old man’s regular garbage bag full of c-ssette tapes
take a story i was read in a book about a man who tripped himself being chased through the woods
running as fast as he could
towards a brilliant light
or the man behind him hacked at his back with a knife
it’s like a story that i was once told
by my grandfather, 83 years old
about a girl he once knew and how she was so lovely
a ray of sunshine in a world so ugly
and the truth is i’m tired of ( ) my girl
cuz i’m feeling care being expressed with my tongue
i know it sounds funny but really the truth is
well sometimes what we have seems so useless
like a nightmare
why’re you trying to scream so loud
but no matter how hard you try nothing comes out
don’t ask me to talk about my problems
won’t make me feel better you ain’t gonna solve ’em

cuz, lately i’ve been feeling kind of grim
tearing myself with this state that i’m in
maybe this is where is all begins
and i will recognize myself when i come out the other end
[x2]

|whatever happened to that kid?|
that kid flipped his lid soon as he turned 20
just like his father did
ran around the city stealing cars and sh-t
walked into 52 division ‘fessed to all of it
yo, last time i saw him he was waiting for the bus
looking at me funny like i was someone he didn’t trust
i guess that’s why he no longer comes see’s us
i heard he lives on a (mount?) talks about jesus
|what about that one dude?|
he moved to b.c
to where ( ) secret agents that only he could see
came back for a while he was crashing on my couch
with the sh-t coming out of his mouth had to kick him out
now he wanders the downtown vicinity
throwing up his tag, muttering about conspiracy
so now what if we don’t really talk and sh-t
but the other night i dreamt i had a dream about an apocalypse
|what about the one kid who always wore that jean jack?|
the cops beat him half to death
left him with brain damage
still see him on the block looking like the living dead
cuz he never did recover from the damage to his head
|now what about what’s his name?|
well as he got older
fell into a depression, diagnosed with bi-polar
he put out an album, that sh-t was kinda weak
they found him sitting half naked in a snowy, wooded (peak?)

the thing is, lately i’ve been feeling kind of grim
tearing myself with this state that i’m in
maybe this is where is all begins
and i will recognize myself when i come out the other end
[x4]

- red ants

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