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On Your Feet

from moving violation / 1 by Bean Carrots

/
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lyrics

I got that nomadic static on my toe tip.
Tripping tales slipping like chippendale's on an ice pick.
And it's a trick.
They say if the shoe fits, wear it.
And it's apparent the shoe will fit anyone that tears it.
So when you parent's swindle the same story of fabled youth.
Tabled you,
twisted the game of truth that labeled you.
And if you knew, only the black, white, puerto-rican, jew
or caribou would pick up a scholarship, it's a game of fools.
So listen to all the elites.
The move of your feet.
A calculated step and repeat, of all you can eat.
Forget about the future you seek. The future is bleak.
They only want to fill up your seat the moment you speak.
And I don't fit.
Make me want to vomit at the thought of it just like a nirvana faked
with two shakes of klonopin.
How long's it been?
Man this awake state is elaborate,
I'd rather sit rolling the great lakes in carriages.
But riding by the stride of my hip has it's advantages
like sliding anywhere I reside, avoiding damages.
Or how I manage to pack packages into passages
while passersby give me an awkward eye over challenges.
So just a quip, stoned alone on a slip, as I wait,
erode the day when I paid for the comic strips.
Used to creep around the corner and hit the page on the script.
It's amazing how the day can switch from sunny to shit.
I see the way the people play in streets.
The police will avoid the beat
The summer heat is indiscreet and counts the shells on your concrete.
Take a seat. I'll let you ride in the back.
Keep the shiver in my liver so I don't overreact.
Took a stroll up to Humboldt, and down to the Square.
Saw Salaam, jump off the bike and blow the smoke in the air.
So here's the scoop:
Shovel them back in.
Don't let it back in.
I see the mice in the middle with termites, I sleep with a rag in.
Gimme the rice and the riddle with french fries I got from the JuRin.
I got a hoe in the center with toe light, my pinkies been aching.
But left alone, you'll see the pinky wasn't faking it.
But now I'm shakin' and bakin' and making it up
just like Salaam says, I got 'em.

No time to wait, roll yo fate and take that walk.
Leave no brick in the rain, just sidewalk chalk and train clatter.
Window's shattered at my doorstep.
Only way to measure the pain is burning forceps on a cold day.
Jump with the fadeaway to the platform.
If that format is extinct, I'll take the catwalk to the alleyway.
Scaffolding chatter messages in my wake.
Everyday you've been eviscerating the holidays.
I could take the patience and replace with with a holograph, while you could cull a nation on complacency and scooby snacks, you fat pig.
I've had enough of Drumpf and all of that,
all I ever wanted was Obama on a yoga mat.
A different view.
Far and away from the one we knew.
If we could picture light and sun rays we could avoid to the truth.
Imprison you.
Pulling a haze over your vision too.
But not with that nation that pays you, it's time for different shoes.

credits

from moving violation / 1, released November 28, 2016

license

all rights reserved

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about

Bean Carrots Chicago, Illinois

Hello.

I am Bean.

I play in Evasive Backflip, Glad Rags, Sex No Babies, Bash Bang, ONO and life.

This is myself.

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