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Memory Is Parallax Lyrics

[Buck 65]

suger in the gastank and sand in the vasoline,
buck 65 and foreign currencies
just in case and for emergencies, i keep double copies, single pairs
of plastic explosive if i need them for signal flairs. goshdarnit,
i'm the intesifying image of your last hope incarnate,
five percent fairytale
and ninety-five of me is hardwork and i rarely fail.
even though i'm very pale, i wear a suit of armor and,
in the summer time i ride my bike and get a farmer's tan.
forty-one to thirty and i'm ok for hours,
backstage at the showcase, i want bouquets of flowers,
a large order of frieds and i'm sort of surprised
because the same thing happened in the lord of the flies
when piggy lost his glasses and got crushed by a boulder.
thanks and no, and even though i'm touched, i am older,
47,516. all i need's a flexed wrist,
stupid djs would give their right arm to be ambidextrous.
the path of radical thought is mathematical.
i substract distractions in addition to inhibitions,
now c'mon everybody, click your heels and do the dorothy.
don't go lookin' for trees through the forestry,
i'll calmy and gladly tell your mommy and daddy
that their little baby girl is part of an experiment.
i never meant to scare anyone, i've been honest, i've been nice,
but i feel like i'm skating on thin ice,
and my skates need sharpening,
i got hardwood floors, but i cover them up with some nice s*** carpeting.
i've pulled whole lotsa dollars out of whole lotsa pockets,
but life is still just a big old bowl of cherries,
and luck berries to chew on, and any kind of fruit juice.
i used to always either have a bleeding nose or loose tooth.
that was in the seventies, i'll tell ya ladies and gentlemen,
that after bein' in the nineties, replaced the eighties' adrenalin.
these be the things that the world says to censor,
and it will snap your head back like an old-fashioned pez-dispenser.
so try to stay on top of it, in fact, knowing opposites attract,
the best thing might be to open windows for security.
as we slip into obscurity, and something more comfortable,
try to bear in mind that memory is parallax.
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Vertex (1997)
Sounds From the Back of the Bus The Centaur Driftwood Jaws of Life The Blues, Part I On All Fours Slow Drama Sleep Apnoea Brown Truck In Every Dream House There Is a Heartache The Blues, Part II Memory Is Parallax To Say the Very Least Works of Light Supper at Sundown BSc. The Blues, Part III Style #386