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letra de pintor (amo & odium) - rilès

[intro]
from the blue of my mind
the bright of my shadow
from the red i pine
i disturb all my sorrow
yellow, yallah, h-llo
you steal gold for your benzo
you’re still old decrescendo
and pink is my new black
raising like roses
white and full of noises
i don’t know where my choice is:
enclose them with the dark of my nights
or liberate them with the prose the light

[verse 1]
i took a morning bath with gabriele münter
kandinsky arrived, and said “go on my n-gga”
i see my trouble green, and renewal is pink
but if you don’t hear my scream
would you think that i sink ?
would you be the b-tch who blames but your bite is no pain
you’d better begin to bargain i see you brain is burden
i feel no pity you’re pathetic, prosaic misunderstand
pragmatic is my complain, of course you know i can’t stand ya b-tch
but i can steal your wish with my black brush
colors are more relevant with that touch
baby you see sh-t is never enough
i love the way you dance in my mind

[verse 2]
i take my watches and eat them with anger
time is enemy but art is the savior
canvas in my head, bad b-tches in purple
others in my bed and red like the devil
i love your curves babe, driving me so evil
look like a demoiselle i ride you like knievel

[hook]
pintor in my head, pintor in my [?]
(x4)

[bridge, from kandinsky]
painting is an art, and the art in its whole
is not a vain objects creation which get lost in the void
but it’s power which has a goal and must serve to the evolution
to the refinement of the human soul, to the moving of the triangle
it is the language which speaks to the soul in its proper form
of things which are the “daily bread” of the soul
and which it can receive only under this form

[pre-verse 3]
understand the concept of love
understand the concept of
understand the concept
understand the
(hatred)

[verse 3]
frequently lost, but never dead
black, white preeminent in my head
somber, somber, somber, somber, see my face
dolor, dolor, dolor, dolor, is the new dread
baby, i want you so bad in my bed
bipolar, yes you can say my love is insane
but the meaning of their life is the meaning of the end
and the meaning of our life is not waiting for heaven
haa!
it’s so hard to love but f-cking easy to hate
b-tch i don’t know how to love but i do know what to hate
i wonder if pollock knew that he painted my race
in a crowd full of b-tches baby i can see your face
baby i can feel your face
let me taste it how it tastes
turn your red into scarlet
explosive is the duet
chérie, you’re ready to sweat ?
you’re ready not to forget ?
to make love with a poet
p-ssy dry now p-ssy wet

[outro]
you.. your p-ssy tastes like..

- riles

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