Exile-Spit Syndicate
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TXT Exile-Spit Syndicate 文本歌词
Exile - Spit Syndicate
Written by：Spit Syndicate
I operate on a higher plane my thoughts take a higher train
It's d**e then you should know the supplier's name
Syd city on home sweet home
My nine to five grind seems to go by slow
With no respect how could you look up in the mirror
The world is looking shady and the future's no clearer so
Runaway train of thought my sore knuckles say
Love and hate huffing shakes straight till I suffocate
With no respect how could you look up in the mirror
The world is looking shady and the future no clearer
I operate on a higher plane my thoughts take a higher train
She said I gotta get away from it
Dreams of an escape from it
Won't let this city get another day from her
Takes solace in the cloak of night like grave robbers
Scanning each face like an enemy of the state
Watches the world around her in a steady decline
Detached from it all yet her mind is heavy
Cartographers couldn't sketch the lines
Of the place she's going nah they'll never find her
Death styles of the young and the beautiful
Nightclub cubicles coc*ine cuticles
But the glitter don't soothe her soul
She feels lost like Rufio waiting on her cue to go
She mightn't found it
Plays it loud until it drowns it
Out and the neighbors come around
This is something that you should know
Projectiles for the dutiful exile soon she'll go
I operate on a higher plane my thoughts take a higher train
It's d**e then you should know the supplier s name
Syd city on home sweet home
My nine to five grind seems to go by slow
With no respect how could you look up in the mirror
The world is looking shady and the future's no clearer so
Runaway train of thought my sore knuckles say
Love and hate huffing shakes straight till I suffocate
He said I gotta break free from this head of mine
To where the stars and the road up ahead align
Food's good weather's fine there's no time like the present right
And despite the many times he tried to pay it the never mind
He's wearing thin like the set of tyres under him
Stop signs he pass shine bright like his petrol light
Cartographers couldn't sketch the lines
Of the place he's going nah they could never find him
Demoted from heaven promoted from hell
For thought crime doing his time all alone in a cell
He sees it all from his windowsill lights up
With the devil n blows smoke halo's with the l
He needs a one way flight to bring him back to life
A pad and pencil gather essentials pack light
The irony of pitch black skies on a Sunday
I'm gonna get up outta here one day
