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letra de everything goes - reference

(produced by samuel kettler)

(verse 1)
what’s the point like that yeah?
what’s the point like that?
with everybody running, drink breaks get short
victory’s cancelled no point but jog
jog, jog, jog, jog
if you keep on jogging then the point don’t matter
cuz if you doing something don’t stop to think
no real discussion that’s just chitter chatter, yo
me, i came from wilchatta station
with a will to chat about real complications
not award considerations
prolemz get discussed while their hot to make activists, seem cool
be cool, like that’s the culture
look how we’ve altered
one time it was all believing we’d all repent at that altar
now it’s colder, we don’t have faith
even if you say you’re religious, do you look around and see light
or do you see false burning life
doesn’t matter bout why’s, only matters is what (s)
what’s what’s what’s important
creating watts is so important, we’re impotent
to what’s the cause
we all fight of course, but without a cause
new babylon, on matterh-rn, it’s unfathomable
it’s gone, we’ve babbled along with hate
in our veins like a capricorn, so stab the don
and spite the dawn so we can hold the night
and let daybreak be gone
if the son don’t rise, then the king holds true
and when he drops dead then what do we do?
i’ll tell you what, we
fight for none and die for one, as per usual

(pre-hook: tune)
(hook)
no one rises here, it’s all vices here x2
anything goes….

(verse 2)
it goes, goes, goes, no prose
ink done ran out yeah we knows
everyone hitting new lows
product of god, i suppose?
it goes, goes, till we all ghosts
finding the whitests coast
under the pall of a darkening sky
shadow of the last page as it closes
what’s the point to me rapping bout this
‘cept to get it off of my chest?
trynna be conscious, but i feel like it is such
nonsense, got no way to vent
cuz when i see a dead body rammed on the tarmac
and there’s tar on the carc-ss, covered in a
tarpaulin, it’s appalling enough
to say that god is a liberal literal artist
oh, i’m begging your pardon
for not speaking in that jargon
you’ve jarred into all men, and stuck em
in a yard and farmed them till they aren’t men
and as i lament on this arbitrary life
i can feel the breeze as i breeze through it
and as i feel like i might be used to it
it means that i can control what i breathe
so i can say what i want to say
or leave it for someone else on another day

(pre-hook: tune)
(hook)
no one rises here, it’s all vices here x2
anything goes….

(outro)

still trying out for an outro
calling out from the back row
it all amounts to a broken back
so i’ve opened up and i’m falling back down…

- reference

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