| I travel with a lungful of music, doesn’t weigh a thing | |
| Reed’s built in, breathe through it every time I sing | |
| And I got pockets full of my own hands, head full of back-up plans | |
| Temper walks beside me, a gift I guess from my old man | |
| History: lines on my face | |
| Future: lines on my palm | |
| They say heaven’s guarded by gates, damnation don’t care much who’s calling | |
| But I don’t fall for that line, only one I walk is mine | |
| I carry what I can and I’m still making good time | |
| Bones are hollow, that’s where I keep marrow | |
| This quiver in my lip, that’s just where I keep my arrows | |
| I fold up my ideas I pack em neat inside my skull | |
| I got this string theory: doesn’t work to push, you gotta pull | |
| So I’m pulling for me, and I’m pulling for mine | |
| And they’re easy to read, but you can’t trust the signs | |
| Eyes blur in the heat, heat curves all the lines | |
| Try to keep up, speed up, get your feet up | |
| And match mine. | |
| [CECIL] | |
| We’ll wait til the dawn | |
| And when dawn breaks we’re moving on | |
| [SIMS] | |
| Gravity I never learned | |
| I'm in the air stretch it out spaghetti western | |
| I make it glow then let it go, no effort | |
| That attachment only kept your flame sequestered | |
| I just let it how the ember in my chest burn | |
| I wasn't in for the fame or making profit | |
| I just came to scrape my name into the cinder blocking | |
| Now they're flocking because the feather's same | |
| I just burned the oil, toiled, man I fed the flame | |
| You better aim before they tame you, boy | |
| It's a wild world they're coming for your pelt, young boy | |
| They're tolling all the bells, Tolstoy | |
| It’s war and peace, beast came to eat, old boy | |
| Oh boy. | |
| [CECIL] (Hook) | |
| We’ll wait til the dawn | |
| And when dawn breaks we’re moving on | |
| We’re raised by the laws | |
| But the laws gonna break when we’re moving on | |
| [SIMS] | |
| Gravity is such a pesky thing | |
| [DESSA] | |
| Makes every weight in sight seem like it's worth measuring | |
| [SIMS] | |
| Makes every step you take so tentative | |
| [DESSA] | |
| But if you don't stride with purpose then there's no benefit | |
| [DESSA/SIMS] | |
| I know | |
| [SIMS] | |
| Only on this surface til we float | |
| [DESSA/SIMS] | |
| but why wait? | |
| [DESSA] | |
| I pull for you and throw your hand a rope | |
| [DESSA/SIMS] | |
| I know, | |
| [SIMS] | |
| you can take time or take time by the throat | |
| [DESSA/SIMS] | |
| So tell me when it's time to go | |
| (Hook) |
| I travel with a lungful of music, doesn' t weigh a thing | |
| Reed' s built in, breathe through it every time I sing | |
| And I got pockets full of my own hands, head full of backup plans | |
| Temper walks beside me, a gift I guess from my old man | |
| History: lines on my face | |
| Future: lines on my palm | |
| They say heaven' s guarded by gates, damnation don' t care much who' s calling | |
| But I don' t fall for that line, only one I walk is mine | |
| I carry what I can and I' m still making good time | |
| Bones are hollow, that' s where I keep marrow | |
| This quiver in my lip, that' s just where I keep my arrows | |
| I fold up my ideas I pack em neat inside my skull | |
| I got this string theory: doesn' t work to push, you gotta pull | |
| So I' m pulling for me, and I' m pulling for mine | |
| And they' re easy to read, but you can' t trust the signs | |
| Eyes blur in the heat, heat curves all the lines | |
| Try to keep up, speed up, get your feet up | |
| And match mine. | |
| CECIL | |
| We' ll wait til the dawn | |
| And when dawn breaks we' re moving on | |
| SIMS | |
| Gravity I never learned | |
| I' m in the air stretch it out spaghetti western | |
| I make it glow then let it go, no effort | |
| That attachment only kept your flame sequestered | |
| I just let it how the ember in my chest burn | |
| I wasn' t in for the fame or making profit | |
| I just came to scrape my name into the cinder blocking | |
| Now they' re flocking because the feather' s same | |
| I just burned the oil, toiled, man I fed the flame | |
| You better aim before they tame you, boy | |
| It' s a wild world they' re coming for your pelt, young boy | |
| They' re tolling all the bells, Tolstoy | |
| It' s war and peace, beast came to eat, old boy | |
| Oh boy. | |
| CECIL Hook | |
| We' ll wait til the dawn | |
| And when dawn breaks we' re moving on | |
| We' re raised by the laws | |
| But the laws gonna break when we' re moving on | |
| SIMS | |
| Gravity is such a pesky thing | |
| DESSA | |
| Makes every weight in sight seem like it' s worth measuring | |
| SIMS | |
| Makes every step you take so tentative | |
| DESSA | |
| But if you don' t stride with purpose then there' s no benefit | |
| DESSA SIMS | |
| I know | |
| SIMS | |
| Only on this surface til we float | |
| DESSA SIMS | |
| but why wait? | |
| DESSA | |
| I pull for you and throw your hand a rope | |
| DESSA SIMS | |
| I know, | |
| SIMS | |
| you can take time or take time by the throat | |
| DESSA SIMS | |
| So tell me when it' s time to go | |
| Hook |
| I travel with a lungful of music, doesn' t weigh a thing | |
| Reed' s built in, breathe through it every time I sing | |
| And I got pockets full of my own hands, head full of backup plans | |
| Temper walks beside me, a gift I guess from my old man | |
| History: lines on my face | |
| Future: lines on my palm | |
| They say heaven' s guarded by gates, damnation don' t care much who' s calling | |
| But I don' t fall for that line, only one I walk is mine | |
| I carry what I can and I' m still making good time | |
| Bones are hollow, that' s where I keep marrow | |
| This quiver in my lip, that' s just where I keep my arrows | |
| I fold up my ideas I pack em neat inside my skull | |
| I got this string theory: doesn' t work to push, you gotta pull | |
| So I' m pulling for me, and I' m pulling for mine | |
| And they' re easy to read, but you can' t trust the signs | |
| Eyes blur in the heat, heat curves all the lines | |
| Try to keep up, speed up, get your feet up | |
| And match mine. | |
| CECIL | |
| We' ll wait til the dawn | |
| And when dawn breaks we' re moving on | |
| SIMS | |
| Gravity I never learned | |
| I' m in the air stretch it out spaghetti western | |
| I make it glow then let it go, no effort | |
| That attachment only kept your flame sequestered | |
| I just let it how the ember in my chest burn | |
| I wasn' t in for the fame or making profit | |
| I just came to scrape my name into the cinder blocking | |
| Now they' re flocking because the feather' s same | |
| I just burned the oil, toiled, man I fed the flame | |
| You better aim before they tame you, boy | |
| It' s a wild world they' re coming for your pelt, young boy | |
| They' re tolling all the bells, Tolstoy | |
| It' s war and peace, beast came to eat, old boy | |
| Oh boy. | |
| CECIL Hook | |
| We' ll wait til the dawn | |
| And when dawn breaks we' re moving on | |
| We' re raised by the laws | |
| But the laws gonna break when we' re moving on | |
| SIMS | |
| Gravity is such a pesky thing | |
| DESSA | |
| Makes every weight in sight seem like it' s worth measuring | |
| SIMS | |
| Makes every step you take so tentative | |
| DESSA | |
| But if you don' t stride with purpose then there' s no benefit | |
| DESSA SIMS | |
| I know | |
| SIMS | |
| Only on this surface til we float | |
| DESSA SIMS | |
| but why wait? | |
| DESSA | |
| I pull for you and throw your hand a rope | |
| DESSA SIMS | |
| I know, | |
| SIMS | |
| you can take time or take time by the throat | |
| DESSA SIMS | |
| So tell me when it' s time to go | |
| Hook |
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