Never want to look out my window again
So I’ll look for work as a projectionist
For room and board I’ll go analog for a meager wage
Live at some dying cinema until my final days
Maybe I should have become a colorist
Picking the hues to make brown skin perfectly lit
Making pretty pictures pop out of the page
Spending all day sparking life into the heroes of the silver age
Or maybe a flower shop, how could I resist?
Create my own microcosm after hours in the garden
I wanna work with my hands, so maybe I’ll learn a trade
Nothing flashy, just something to make sure all the bills are paid
Because America is a nation of middlemen
So I’ll do whatever it takes to not be one of them
Until some old white men decide my fate
They’ll sign the dotted lines while black bodies fill in the blanks
This land was never meant for me
They told me racism ended in the seventies
But the good old boys now have senate seats
And the ones not cut out for politics became police
I think about converting a school bus constantly
Just me and my tiny home exploring the worlds topography
Only want for gas money, no more convenience fees
No living just to work and getting burnt out by 30
Americana stole my soul before it even had me
But if I was born anywhere else would I still be me?
I don’t know what it is about this duplicitous country
I swear I hate it here but for some odd reason I just can’t seem to leave
If there’s anything this year taught me
My life is worth less than a haircut and a coffee
Only protest if you’re white and miss conveniency
But don’t you dare sit this out or take a knee
Makes me want to just cut and run
My parents wonder why I won’t have children
But every so often I get pulled back in
Back in
Back in
Because there’s so much I still love and cherish so tenderly
My time in Alaska, South Carolina, and even Mississippi
I didn’t even know that Texas could be so pretty
A glittery daydream, so vibrant expansive and serene
So many pockets of beauty surrounded by pure ugly
I know it’s like this everywhere but please just let me dream
A utopia that I know I won’t live to see
I just wanted to feel some sort of pride so badly
So I’ll look for work as a projectionist
For room and board I’ll go analog for a meager wage
Live at some dying cinema until my final days
Maybe I should have become a colorist
Picking the hues to make brown skin perfectly lit
Making pretty pictures pop out of the page
Spending all day sparking life into the heroes of the silver age
Or maybe a flower shop, how could I resist?
Create my own microcosm after hours in the garden
I wanna work with my hands, so maybe I’ll learn a trade
Nothing flashy, just something to make sure all the bills are paid
Because America is a nation of middlemen
So I’ll do whatever it takes to not be one of them
Until some old white men decide my fate
They’ll sign the dotted lines while black bodies fill in the blanks
This land was never meant for me
They told me racism ended in the seventies
But the good old boys now have senate seats
And the ones not cut out for politics became police
I think about converting a school bus constantly
Just me and my tiny home exploring the worlds topography
Only want for gas money, no more convenience fees
No living just to work and getting burnt out by 30
Americana stole my soul before it even had me
But if I was born anywhere else would I still be me?
I don’t know what it is about this duplicitous country
I swear I hate it here but for some odd reason I just can’t seem to leave
If there’s anything this year taught me
My life is worth less than a haircut and a coffee
Only protest if you’re white and miss conveniency
But don’t you dare sit this out or take a knee
Makes me want to just cut and run
My parents wonder why I won’t have children
But every so often I get pulled back in
Back in
Back in
Because there’s so much I still love and cherish so tenderly
My time in Alaska, South Carolina, and even Mississippi
I didn’t even know that Texas could be so pretty
A glittery daydream, so vibrant expansive and serene
So many pockets of beauty surrounded by pure ugly
I know it’s like this everywhere but please just let me dream
A utopia that I know I won’t live to see
I just wanted to feel some sort of pride so badly
( Proper (USA) )
www.ChordsAZ.com