19 open it up Lyrics

Song	19 open it up
Artist	Frontier Ruckus
Album	Eternity Of Dimming
Download	Image LRC TXT

	作词 : Matthew Christopher Milia
	作曲 : Matthew Christopher Milia
	Hard-hopin'
	I can open
	It up
	Heartbroken
	And soft-spoken
	Ain't we all grown up now?
	Mary-Lynn, when you call to me
	There is little I can do
	And you want to bring it all to me
	Well, you know, I'd want you to
	But seeing as there is no place
	Seeing as there is no trace
	I do not know if I can taste it
	Anymore
	Now I rub each tear duct with my hands
	When someone's foreign bathtub product brands
	Stung my heart and plucked my glands
	Because it understands the smell
	You wore
	That's when I follow my dad down
	To the video rental store
	Mentally explore
	The glorious
	Phantasmagoria
	To some sunny summer family reunion in a soccer practice park
	Through a dark grainy camcorder
	With '1994' in white numbers on the border of the lower right corner where you
	Were quite pixelated by the men in the tans
	Beside the subtly outdated minivans
	In turquoise polos as the boys blow 'O's
	Through the dirty mustaches they grew
	Smoking Merit cigarettes you inherit from Papou
	Pulled from soft packs in an '89 Buick Park Avenue
	In slacks on the pickup lane of the Catholic K thru 8 his great grandson goes to
	There's a dead world locked in a Nintendo 64
	In some divorced friend's mom's apartment bedroom drawer
	And a chandelier of chrome in her white brick apartment home's
	Shared stairwell where the farewells blew
	And sag with the bags
	Of sidewalk salt
	You cannot disown
	Your middle-school cologne
	And the tedium
	Is the medium that connects
	All that is holy
	I was the goalie
	Who let in an infinitude of
	Worlds
	That I can't possibly disown
	The snow
	Ossified to bone
	And got stained so black
	By the track of the sliding doors
	Of the modern cell phone stores
	Chaldeans smoking sweetly
	As the deeply dim night pours
	For you
	There's a meteorologist
	On the local news
	Whose hand I got to grip
	On a fifth grade field trip
	He's no long young-dad hip
	For he's now as old as all of us
	Would ever want to be
	And the weather, we foresee
	Will be better endlessly
	Once Nana's
	Backyard swallows us
	The lawns aren't cut too short
	And they abut the tennis court
	And our ages are not cages
	That we cannot re-assort
	Oh, the obsolescence
	Of your adolescence
	Heavy as a copy machine
	Gargantuan, elephantine
	In an old friend's dad's 90s home office
	With off-white purring processors
	And PC blurs on monitors
	They can't display the past so they
	Just mark their time and darken
	I'm just
	Hard-hopin'
	I can open
	It up

	zuo ci : Matthew Christopher Milia
	zuo qu : Matthew Christopher Milia
	Hardhopin'
	I can open
	It up
	Heartbroken
	And softspoken
	Ain' t we all grown up now?
	MaryLynn, when you call to me
	There is little I can do
	And you want to bring it all to me
	Well, you know, I' d want you to
	But seeing as there is no place
	Seeing as there is no trace
	I do not know if I can taste it
	Anymore
	Now I rub each tear duct with my hands
	When someone' s foreign bathtub product brands
	Stung my heart and plucked my glands
	Because it understands the smell
	You wore
	That' s when I follow my dad down
	To the video rental store
	Mentally explore
	The glorious
	Phantasmagoria
	To some sunny summer family reunion in a soccer practice park
	Through a dark grainy camcorder
	With ' 1994' in white numbers on the border of the lower right corner where you
	Were quite pixelated by the men in the tans
	Beside the subtly outdated minivans
	In turquoise polos as the boys blow ' O' s
	Through the dirty mustaches they grew
	Smoking Merit cigarettes you inherit from Papou
	Pulled from soft packs in an ' 89 Buick Park Avenue
	In slacks on the pickup lane of the Catholic K thru 8 his great grandson goes to
	There' s a dead world locked in a Nintendo 64
	In some divorced friend' s mom' s apartment bedroom drawer
	And a chandelier of chrome in her white brick apartment home' s
	Shared stairwell where the farewells blew
	And sag with the bags
	Of sidewalk salt
	You cannot disown
	Your middleschool cologne
	And the tedium
	Is the medium that connects
	All that is holy
	I was the goalie
	Who let in an infinitude of
	Worlds
	That I can' t possibly disown
	The snow
	Ossified to bone
	And got stained so black
	By the track of the sliding doors
	Of the modern cell phone stores
	Chaldeans smoking sweetly
	As the deeply dim night pours
	For you
	There' s a meteorologist
	On the local news
	Whose hand I got to grip
	On a fifth grade field trip
	He' s no long youngdad hip
	For he' s now as old as all of us
	Would ever want to be
	And the weather, we foresee
	Will be better endlessly
	Once Nana' s
	Backyard swallows us
	The lawns aren' t cut too short
	And they abut the tennis court
	And our ages are not cages
	That we cannot reassort
	Oh, the obsolescence
	Of your adolescence
	Heavy as a copy machine
	Gargantuan, elephantine
	In an old friend' s dad' s 90s home office
	With offwhite purring processors
	And PC blurs on monitors
	They can' t display the past so they
	Just mark their time and darken
	I' m just
	Hardhopin'
	I can open
	It up

	zuò cí : Matthew Christopher Milia
	zuò qǔ : Matthew Christopher Milia
	Hardhopin'
	I can open
	It up
	Heartbroken
	And softspoken
	Ain' t we all grown up now?
	MaryLynn, when you call to me
	There is little I can do
	And you want to bring it all to me
	Well, you know, I' d want you to
	But seeing as there is no place
	Seeing as there is no trace
	I do not know if I can taste it
	Anymore
	Now I rub each tear duct with my hands
	When someone' s foreign bathtub product brands
	Stung my heart and plucked my glands
	Because it understands the smell
	You wore
	That' s when I follow my dad down
	To the video rental store
	Mentally explore
	The glorious
	Phantasmagoria
	To some sunny summer family reunion in a soccer practice park
	Through a dark grainy camcorder
	With ' 1994' in white numbers on the border of the lower right corner where you
	Were quite pixelated by the men in the tans
	Beside the subtly outdated minivans
	In turquoise polos as the boys blow ' O' s
	Through the dirty mustaches they grew
	Smoking Merit cigarettes you inherit from Papou
	Pulled from soft packs in an ' 89 Buick Park Avenue
	In slacks on the pickup lane of the Catholic K thru 8 his great grandson goes to
	There' s a dead world locked in a Nintendo 64
	In some divorced friend' s mom' s apartment bedroom drawer
	And a chandelier of chrome in her white brick apartment home' s
	Shared stairwell where the farewells blew
	And sag with the bags
	Of sidewalk salt
	You cannot disown
	Your middleschool cologne
	And the tedium
	Is the medium that connects
	All that is holy
	I was the goalie
	Who let in an infinitude of
	Worlds
	That I can' t possibly disown
	The snow
	Ossified to bone
	And got stained so black
	By the track of the sliding doors
	Of the modern cell phone stores
	Chaldeans smoking sweetly
	As the deeply dim night pours
	For you
	There' s a meteorologist
	On the local news
	Whose hand I got to grip
	On a fifth grade field trip
	He' s no long youngdad hip
	For he' s now as old as all of us
	Would ever want to be
	And the weather, we foresee
	Will be better endlessly
	Once Nana' s
	Backyard swallows us
	The lawns aren' t cut too short
	And they abut the tennis court
	And our ages are not cages
	That we cannot reassort
	Oh, the obsolescence
	Of your adolescence
	Heavy as a copy machine
	Gargantuan, elephantine
	In an old friend' s dad' s 90s home office
	With offwhite purring processors
	And PC blurs on monitors
	They can' t display the past so they
	Just mark their time and darken
	I' m just
	Hardhopin'
	I can open
	It up

YouTube Results (More on YouTube)