atlas - wordsmith Lyrics
You see I wouldn't really call myself a wordsmith
Cause' words never have been something I was that good with
Its been absurd since that learning curve went South for the Winter left my teeth on the curb bent
Knocked right outta' my mouth into splinters
My household was Shindler's List doused in the bitter mist of counting its insolence and down right deliberate shit
I was falling apart in my own elusiveness complaining n' confused instead of actually doing shit
When the window flitted open and a breeze you would flew in with
Breathe but refused to sit
See I was truer then
Perhaps I should just move a bit feeling like my souls are sleeping
I've been getting harder to hold with every golden week
I'm so cold and meek n' needed a friend
Askin' "When I'll see you again"
When will I see you again
When will I see you again
When will I see you again
When will I see you again
Other Lyrics by Artist
- atlas - Blacks & Blues
- atlas - fix this
- atlas - fuck out my mentions
- atlas - handheld
- atlas - here we go again
- atlas - holding yr hand
- atlas - holy fucking shit
- atlas - honesty
- atlas - i don't crave death, i just crave peace
- atlas - i rapped on my own contest beat
- atlas - IDGAF
- atlas - if design dictates function, what am i?
- atlas - in between
- atlas - internet personas
- atlas - isn't here
- atlas - IT HAPPENS // DIRT
- atlas - fine
- atlas - final form!
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atlas wordsmith Comments
0 likes its so perfect, but sadly im an asshole
What's the beat called
could i find the instrumental somewhere?
damn, i miss my dog
0 dislikes wtf
Is that a good wtf?
Foekroka gets shit on by wAFF.
Anyone else here after getting shit on by wAFF?
is this on spotify
Spotify takes music so he uploads on Soundcloud
soul savior XXI right here . one love , real rap .
lyrics:
i think that now i'd call myself a wordsmith
but not because of talent of ability
it's more that i can balance the facilities
of living as a human, while i'm sittin' here decal-ing my soliloquies
and i guess it makes sense, in that regard
i use my brain as a capture card
inhalin' every word i stumble upon
to try to catalog 'em all before the rapture starts
so you can tag along and follow all the wacky antics
like all my stupid problems that relapsing can't fix
"keep your head up out the sand, stop scratching that wrist
before you turn into another anxious ativan kid"
well i guess it's too late... a couple hundred panic states passed
and my broken self ran away fast
feels like i lost my body in a hand grenade blast
with all this absence in my soul, and i can't evade that
so i'm stuck... trapped in a painting of myself
that was made before i changed how i felt
i'm hoping that my other friends can break out and help
but to be honest, it seems like they've greyed out as well
i constantly remember back in high school
sneaking out to kick it with no pay stubs
everything was simpler then, i guess
i only feel free when there's something to escape from
so i'll keep writing songs of longing for the olden
looking to the future for my confidence and boldness
it certainly isn't here, and neither am i
but i think that we've established that enough to decide
that it's time for a change; or, rather, time to revert
'cause we all sorta miss the designs that we were
and maybe nowadays what i write's more diverse
but the patrick years back didn't understand hurt
and that hurts
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- https://twitter.com/xpurpan
- https://soundcloud.com/purpan