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letra de don't smoke (fauth) - tom (aus)

mourn my nativity silent
born a pr-ck and he’ll die it
‘cause his pops was sick and ill-minded, twisted, real violent
his kid is just like him
it’s written by the giver of guidance
could’ve slid right behind him through the thin gates guarded by the leviathan
his stains just slid from my eyelids
that’s like the sixth time i’ve cried this week and it’s monday
man, it’s just by design, i guess
mourn my nativity private
or perform what you think is required
then please leave like your ears just got hip to the sirens
been rapping different since god picked him for flying
lifted by choirs, form fit for denial
they gonna snitch, it’s implied
why act as if you’re suprised?
his hand-me-downs fitting me nice
hospital gowns and cigarettes packets, man he lived with a price upon his crown that he’d give to his wife to pay back if he –
(died)
just mourn my nativity silent
born under a shimmering sky, aching
i’m not rapping, more just on a silly little tirade
speak to me sideways, but fib to me nice
he left a life littered with lies, think i’m living it right
fist full of rye, left fist winding up
misaligning cause with intention to get his whining done
pick a time to forfeit, hesitate when questions finally come
you couldn’t bench a f-cking syllable that trickles from this frightened tongue
he might’ve sucked but 60 still seems mighty young
rehearsing beside my mum like “don’t smoke”
and then he passed and look what i’ve become
you couldn’t buy my trust
shriveled up so much you couldn’t find my lungs
first “don’t smoke” i spoke on my declining funds
i have less money now than i had then, thought i was climbing up
my sins, i’m blind to some
but my mum showed me blind is –
(love)
peace be to the mothers
pieced me from nothing, we just some receivers of comfort
women conditioned to keep demons as lovers
with grief seen in abundance and complex
sleep needed, dreams eat at your conscience and rot there
it’s been f-ck the ones that left me trustless
but he just lost an uncle, his mum’s sick and grieving too, his dad is f-cked up
already said that we might see it through
seems i gotta bleed to prove i’m feasible
love exists, my mother, she’s the proof
my dad, my demon’s roots
red eyes dashing trying to read the room

- tom aus

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