Текст песни Ten Year Party - Chris Orrick

Been keeping dialogues, in a dialog
Walking through the fog, maybe i′m a fraud
Try to find myself, somewhere in Argentina
I think i'm back home, sorry had to leave you
Counting calories, got no salary
Need a salad dude, not satisfactory
Need no malady, my reality
Sipping daiquiris
No more factory
She′s probably mad at me
Living unhappily
I live in malady
In a menagerie
Originality, Technicality
You don't believe me? Check my gallery
Personality, bleak mentality
Save the flattery, I don't need it
I got an ego, I′m pretty premo
Save your money, It′s a placebo

They say Make money money
Make money money money
But i hate money money
Hate money money money
And if i got to work for the man for the rest of my life
I'd probably kill myself
I′d rather live for ten years the way that i want
Instead of 70 for someone else
So let my drink my wine
Let me smoke my stuff
Let me write my songs
One day i'll be OK

One day i′ll be OK

I'm not a frat rapper, I′m a fat rapper
You can find me in the streets with the pan handlers
Let me snort a Xani off a desk
Crack a fucking Boston Lager over Sammy Adam's head
Excuse the violence, I'm kinda salty though
Keep the violins, but you don′t call me bro
White kids celebrating white privilege through black music it′s some bitch shit
Now back to business, was never good at business
Was never really good at anything other than this shit
And this shit can drive a man face first
Into his grave with a smile on his face, but first
Let me smile at the sunset
Let me stick around before you make me leave cause i'm not done yet
Let me wave from the guillotine
A final goodbye, If you got money ain′t no need to dream