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someone else's accolades

from Can't Wait 4 The 80's To Be Over Again by Tread

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lyrics

(first verse + base lyrics):

I missed every exam, every chance to prove who I am

in the hallowed halls of someone else's accolades standing tall,

and as I swam, I couldn't keep my head above water,

as I swam, I couldn't keep my head above water,

as if I lived to sacrifice myself at the altar as a future example

of a man become a lamb who was damned to the slaughter,

but without the glory of a martyr, without the altruistic

brilliance of a goddamn doctor, fuck a PhD cus like me

it's only temporary, can't bring it to the cemetary,

or find a place in death to spend a single penny saved

kept in the bank as a back-up plan, and yet regardless

I'll still die one day, not gonna need your copper,

not gonna need your food, not gonna need your honour,

not gonna need your nudes, not gonna need your dollars,

not gonna need your news, or your views, or your rules,

or your schools, or your excuses cus I'll be dead and

having nothing left to prove, thus my story shall conclude

in this mind of mine, if I'm important then just give it time

and historians will find my lines cus they'll have something to prove,

they'll have to prove I once existed, once consisted of a mix between

persistence and resistance, expressed through the thoughts I put to paper

once I'd really stopped to listen...

once I'd really stopped to listen...

*as I swam, I couldn't keep my head above water* (x2)

words are just credit for reality, credit representing our vitality,

I don't dream of one day comfortably retiring, I just hope one day

I make a salary so I can afford the calories I need

"but child, what you make is all dependent on Thine Deeds"

find me sinking, not swimming, thinking, not winning,

tinkering with words as I'm grinning at the gritty shit

that life proves to me is part of "it," as in, "all of it,"

this single verse in space and time, this bed on which I sit...

(second verse):

I'm sippin on water, can't afford wine

it's fine, I'm fine, just trying to make and take what's mine,

maybe I, can declare to the planet, this is Mein Kampf

My Struggle, I'm not a neo-nazi, I'm just a muddy-blooded muggle

trying to exist with zilch for krill, can't afford what's on the

shopping list,

but hey, it ain't that bad by any measure,

I still got some coffee, got my zoloft, tasting pleasure in the air

as I walk through the treasure of I am 'ever' and 'where'

I'm wherever, regardless of the weather, regardless of the sun or

moon, by God, regardless of the pressure,

mother nature got me measured out, she tells me I'm a mountain goat

standing on the precipice and yet I never fall into the moat

around your castle thinking I can smell your asshole from across

a distant plataeu, forgot I spiked the punch bowl, now we all lost in

the antipodes, travelling through our minds until we reach the freeze

of a southern pole, I'm just trying to establish if there is objective soul,

though I've lost my mental bearings with this business I call caring,

from thoughtful metaphysics to the clothes that I am wearing,

I got my Marxist critique and you got your lovely Toms shoes,

'pay it pay it pay it forward' so the black kids don't sing their southern blues,

how disengenuous, you wanna solve the planets issues?

I'm still wasting paper wiping tears off with a tissue,

naw dude, I don't just miss you, I wouldn't wanna be you,

a mind shaped like money and my money shaped like mind,

I'm not an angry kid, but I really know my sign, ergo call me Gemini,

I can fly without feathers on my wings, I can scream and it comes out soundin' like I sing

I got a sing-song voice, it was a gift, not choice, perhaps I'll make a million by the time I'm 26

perhaps I'll burn the krilla when I learn it's all a trick,

I'm not a dick, I got a dick. Good save, you prick, avoid the accusation like a slippery piece of shit,

I can't hear you over the sounds of my killer rhymes,

make your face all puckered with fresh lemons, and rotten limes,

defining weirdo line for line, snorting uppers before I meet with Jesus for the last supper,

I think it's bread and water which we dine, of course the water turns to wine and us apostles feelin fine

I decide to rap for Jesus, and he says, 'please, be so kind,' so I spouted off my letters

My bruh, the Son of God, said, 'by Jove, this is no beggar,' as he downs a shot of jaeger,

'This kid's a prophet, and Goddamn he'll make a profit, make a trillion sheckles, he'll upstage both me and Muhammad'

and I say, 'I'm 60% water, can you make it into alcohol?'

The Original O-Jesus says 'fuck yeah, tonight will be a ball'

I take a ball of coke from out my pocket, Jesus eyes get big and round like giant chunks of Lindt chocolate.

credits

from Can't Wait 4 The 80's To Be Over Again, released January 26, 2019
Instrumental: "Charge" prod. by Dran Fresh.

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Tread Powell River, British Columbia

Cosmic poetry in infinite motion until we realize there is no end, after which he keeps on rhyming
--**--ethereal
oddball
rap--**--

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