I walk the earth quietly,
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by day carry a net.
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With no strings attached,
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to a magic marionette.
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See there's so little time left
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and yet there's so much space.
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Thinking why don't you give me a call later on
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so we can touch base.
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I swim across the seven seas,
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and follow the sounds of handclaps.
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And just try to keep my balls
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out of the sand traps, heh.
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'Cause before I go on live,
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all my enemies try to contrive
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plots to make my whole entire
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routine take a swan dive.
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But this ain't commercialized
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hip hop or indie pop.
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Nah, this ain't the mashed potato.
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Uh-Uh,this ain't the windy hop.
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The dance that goes with this
|
is called the keep perfectly still.
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Before your brain becomes burnt out,
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like cheap circuitry will.
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Lately I've been spending almost
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all my nights with my hands full.
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Between writing my rhymes
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and my fights with the Man-Wolf.
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I'm building a better mousetrap
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and plus a wider fence.
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'Cause I trust my instincts
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and I follow my spider-sense.
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-----------------
|
Sunday Driver
|
| Buck 65 |
