Текст песни Wineskin - Gao the Arsonist

What now? I'm hearing crickets as my response
Eyes closed with only a ticking rhythm
My wrist watch
Tick tock
Seconds sliding past I feel it rip 'cross
The list of things I have left that I can live off
Thrift shop for shabby shit that I use to get off on a high
Or get off from a high place to kiss 'walks
Fill my pockets with mockeries of a purpose I'm still searching for
Working cog turn in the machine, I'm tryna chew the circuit board
Maybe I'll digest some information
I need reasons to keep breathing I mean there's oxygen I'm wasting
What's gunpowder and a touted strap without the bullet casings
Nigga, count up all the uses, 'part from dousing it in flames
I'm a fountain in the rain, nigga
Directions when they routed out a maze
Couple thousand in safe
Money left out in a raid
Hands bound, clock wound back every hour of the day
Known placebo for the pain, nigga

What the fuck a wineskin without grapes on a grape vine
All that's built wilts, shrivels up with out a trace
Dry
If life's purpose as worthless as it feels, take mine
Where's the fucking sanctity in waking up to chase high
What the fuck a wineskin without grapes on a grape vine
All that's built wilts, shrivels up with out a trace
Dry
If life's purpose as worthless as it feel, take mine
Where's the fucking sanctity in waking up

Eyelids peel back to reveal the real lack
Of light in the still blackness
Don't even feel sadness at the window sill, sat
Still without a will
Fact that a shell won't be whole of fucking filled if it's cracked
After your cock stops throbbing in your cotton wrap
Hop in the colored steel on rubber wheels
You crawling back to modern day plantations
Paid for daily attendance
Toil till you coil into the shape of independence, nigga
Penance, nigga
How I pay the price for self-slaughter
Sinking in this sinner's though like blood thicker than water
I got sawdust in my bronchus tryna chop the mental block
That all the semen in my socks, amounted to worthwhile
Better bury bodies in a ground that is fertile
Where the fuck you find benefits for hedonists
Deathbed
Only show they figures and percentages

What the fuck a wineskin without grapes on a grape vine
All that's built wilts, shrivels up with out a trace
Dry
If life's purpose as worthless as it feels, take mine
Where's the fucking sanctity in waking up to chase high
What the fuck a wineskin without grapes on a grape vine
All that's built wilts, shrivels up with out a trace
Dry
If life's purpose as worthless as it feel, take mine
Where's the fucking sanctity in waking up