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A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

1979


Artist: Jehst

Album: High Plains Drifter EP


Jehst High Plains Drifter EP 1979


I bleed liquid gold and slur speech in a cryptic code
my feet slipping on this twisted road
only the mystic knows the lone figure in the distance
no bigger than the sum of his enscriptions
or the extent of his conviction
I'll sip vitamin enriched liquid diction
and digest fiction for culture, i force fed code the monster
my head and net connected by a pole
Try to hold things together like the skins i fold
take my food for thought with a pinch of salt
true to form, my sin results in self doubt
look into my eyes i dont need to spell it out
you can see it, how i tripped and fell down
and picked myself up, turned myself round from the cliffs edge
and staggered home like a misled piss head
i put up a fight, till my fist bled
I choke on lead, until my spits red
when i step outside to get a quick breath of fresh debt
no theres no air left, and 50% of us couldnt care less, i bare flesh
exposed to the cancerous light like tearing the film, out ya cameras
im still ravenous, i feel my stomach acid
keep burning as i work towards another classic
melt ya plastic chat snatch ya comfort blanet
in this cold world your naked and un-attractive
and ya tactics are underhanded
i hibernate through the winter
and wait for the summer madness


Call me the dirty stop out, fetus on the couch
stout on my breath and a bad case of desert mouth
forever drowing my pain in the pleasent sound of whispered words and rainfall on little ground
gaged and bound with no hope of gettin out
save the secrets and lies, im trying to settle down
but like the weather now, im unpredictable
my hates bitter but my loves unconditional
living in this digital age, these are strange days
my rage tamed, and freed on the same page
i make waves, till i wash away the refuge
god of the sea, these are the eight moons of neptune
i make moves to refuge, but dont sleep
i walk the street, with a rose in my teeth
and a bitter sweet song in my heart
i take every step, the hard headed dont ever rest
so till the very end, i wont ever rest
i serenade my angel with every breath god sends
in rememerence of lost friends
whenever my cold tent drops, i know what went on then
provokes me to focus ahead
close my eyes and get close to the dead
I'm the ghost that begs to be released from limbo
between two worlds like the theif at the window



Smashing Pumpkins: 1979 Blur: 1992