Lyrics:
washing, she was widowed by a pipeline man
We're flatland hillbillies, getting by on what we can
We're river rats and john boat shrimpers, trouble in our
I got some killers so don't push me
Juicy J be on some mob shit
Waitin' by your door step hot in the bullshit
If it comes down to it ain't no thang
Vegetative states like green Rhode Island
Viewed from far above late in the spring
Sprawl beneath one's eyes; a natural blanket
Airplane mode, no
the dancefloor, shit turned into a fire
Okay,
I'll have two G&T's extra lime
Extra large, extra thyme
Extra ice to match my extra ice
Five star restaurant life by
thinkin' with your
arcades of me as a sure-fire start to something
long haul
don't get by winkin' to your
parades of me as you tear yourself apart
them
Don't need more reasons to turn this to a fire pit
Barbecue, I would do, right find without all of it
It's awful and off to no resolving it
handle
Brad Sage mode
A level above
It's not a game
This ain't
Arcade mode
Why they
Want to take me out
I'm not even showing off
Tell me what's the catch
to bend
Symbols so discontent
I live in dystopia
Accompany opium
Soon they're covered
By phony associates
I'm still hoping this
Opens the door to coping
to exist Mind over matter
Chick Fila cool I'd rather oyster platters
Drink Dads root beer but I'm still bastard
See fire hear Pops that's a close caption
Small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquees weren't weeping, they went
tried to play me like a game, arcade
Now they on my d*** no shame, no shade
N-n-n-no
Ain't no shade h**
I'm too clean like a maid h**
I'm on fire, on Wade
fade
Really tried to play me like a game, arcade
Now they on my dick no shame, no shade
N-n-n-no
Ain't no shade hoe
I'm too clean like a maid hoe
I
pro
Now u see slime I'm not your average joe
Trust issues from being back stabbed by a nigga u call bro
You can see the snakes once u keep that grass
Small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight,
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquees weren't weeping, they went
The fire in the kitchen
Grows from stove to the cabinet
If it's a dream then I'm having it
Because I'm tired, am I sleeping?
Or does my house
Play a ting called "Trash and Ready"
Written by Mr cat the Wild Apache
The man called
The greatest selectah ah di equator
Can't cross the border cah
disguise
She was the midnight, beckoning me
With ebony eyes
Telling me stories, melting the truth
And selling me lies
I saw the fires burning, I saw
Tumbleweeds are flying by
Prairie dust gets in my eye
Smell of sweet new jersey tea
In the flatland streams I collect my water
I put my kettle
that the senses are deceived and isolated by machines
I find
Myself a being of consuming flame
And seeing that the passions are deceived and maneuvered
Rolling through the city sprawl
On a late night train
The moon will survive us all
Waiting for a friend to call
I'm adrift again
I search for
I be 'bout my business like I'm in a suit and tie
But when I'm by myself I roll it up and blaze that fire
I'm blessed and I ain't never stressed
your breath away
Loving by the fire
I wish that I could stay
Says she's still not ready
How is her love earned?
She teases my soul with dust in my dreams
Under Thatcher's unfeeling guidance the scenario is one year early.
With the cold mechanism of the pin ball arcade
We're flicked around as numbers by
and real
I know, I know it's stupid and immature
I just want to give shape to the face
That twists inside both you and me
Breathing fire, doesn't look
.jpg/300px-Arcade_Fire_(27463874647).jpg "Arcade Fire")
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