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Inspired by Xsumi's Sunday subway writing trips
lyrics
sundays, taking trains, one-way, buck and change
nowhere in particular, just wishing for some rain
doze off, miss my stop, jump out, walkabout
homey stays down the street, see what he talkin bout
caught him walkin out, headed downtown, walked a couple blocks
then he hits me with the pound, see ya round, got lucky
I fuck with him, but I don't wanna be stuck with him
ten minutes at the bar, I had enough of him, it's three thirty
martini dirty, the day after, we was drinking hella early
the day already burry, where were we
ol girlie came from Jersey, we cruising the streets
shooting the breeze, knees touching on a subway squeeze
we on a journey, I guess you could say
I don't know where, I don't care, not today
that's ok, waste the day away, it's a Sunday
we use ten percent of our brains and eight percent of our hearts
time's infinite as the earth, moon, the stars
here for mere years, we'll only see the tiniest parts
and then our spark's blown out (blown out)
and that's what I'm thinkin bout when I'm zoning out
Staten Ferry hanging off the side, thinkin how all the lovers died
all that soul and still fucked up inside
Whitney ain't make fifty, the shit hit me
that's what I'm thinkin when you look at me wondering where is he
guess we must believe in an afterlife or we'd be more busy
I go high, get dizzy, and fall back
in ascension I lose momentum, now what you call that
self-sabotage, got something against success
guess I prefer camouflage
like if I drop my guard it all might fly apart, so I pick the wild card
guess I like life hard, the kind of story that'll make you say my God
sleeping on myself
just wasting my life away, like a Sunday
this is what happens while you're making plans
but imagine if everything went the way you planned
would be a weird world, that shit don't make a man
a being with limitless means
a screen in our heads that plays scenes from our dreams
and what surrounds is what them dreams look like on the ground
cuz if it was meant to be it'd be here by now
I hope I'm wrong, world, c'mon, don't let me down
a lot of mine ain't turn out how I expected
not in control, don't know what I expected
not in control, I just gotta accept it
but ain’t figured that out yet, that's some next shit
a day of surprises.. what a Sunday.
credits
from GREAT EXPECTATIONS,
released January 1, 2013
Written on the D train to Harlem and the Staten Island Ferry
Produced by @evilldewer
Recorded at Blue Plate Artist Lofts, New Orleans (thx @voicey_uno)
Mixed by @yaminallday
