Vonnegut Busy Lyrics
| Song | Vonnegut Busy |
| Artist | Sage Francis |
| Album | Copper Gone |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| [Intro:] | |
| Of all the words of mice and men | |
| The saddest are, "it might have been" | |
| Of all the words of mice and men | |
| The saddest are | |
| [Hook:] | |
| I like for my shoes to look like they've been walked in | |
| My house to look like it's been lived in | |
| My car to look like a coffin that's been driven off a cliff | |
| My career like a non-stop graveyard shift | |
| [Verse 1:] | |
| Don't clean the crime scene cause time means money | |
| Don't need visine when my eyes seem bloody | |
| I see dead people, but who doesn't? | |
| We walk undercover, deadpan blending in with other human puppets | |
| Discussing nothing but the sports and weather | |
| If I stare long enough they all morph together | |
| Then I freak out, it'll blow my cover | |
| So I just keep out, no, we don't know each other | |
| I'm on the road to recovery, no GPS | |
| Hoist in my sails ‘till the sea breeze rests | |
| Suck wind if you wanna player hate | |
| Day to day I use my fear of falling asleep to stay awake | |
| I appear psychic-like, but I'm not a psychic | |
| You're just predictable with no fight left to fight it | |
| If you write it they will come with a red pen and a tazer-gun | |
| Let's do something | |
| [Hook] | |
| [Verse 2:] | |
| I sift through the ashes in search of surviviors | |
| Digging up the Earth filling urns with dirt | |
| For what it's worth I'm richer than the cemetary soil | |
| I use slant drilling to get my midnight oil | |
| I've been moonlighting as a daydreamer | |
| I'm at the wheel of an eight-seater, (hey) hey mister gatekeeper | |
| Call me key master, no, home owner | |
| One, two and to the three and to the foreclosure | |
| They said the war was over, but we know it wasn't | |
| They wanted more soldiers so we said "sure, fuck it" | |
| Here's a fresh batch of people with setbacks | |
| The poor folk, in fact they’re all broke cause of your debt traps | |
| Picking the pockets of people who probably needed assistance most | |
| Selling them lies, selling them out, sending them off to a distant coast | |
| Telling them anything anyone left with impossible debt is receptive to | |
| Breaking a promise of negative worth like "buddy there's nothing left for you" | |
| Gotta buy buy buy to stay alive, they punish the payment delayed | |
| Then they charge you for the low balance then they ask "why didn't you save?" | |
| Too long we took it on the chin, too long we took it to our grave | |
| Now we take what we can get, fuck an unlivable minimum wage | |
| Do something | |
| [Bride:] | |
| It might have been | |
| (Do something) | |
| It might have been | |
| Of all the words of mice and men | |
| The saddest are Vonnegut busy | |
| Do it, do it - mess up my mind (Vonnegut busy) | |
| Do it, do it - mess up my mind | |
| [Verse 3:] | |
| Sometimes I shoot myself in the foot, I put my foot in my mouth | |
| Clean it while it’s there, and then i suck the bullet out | |
| Reload the weapon, now that's conservation | |
| Stay locked and loaded in a bad conversation | |
| He making blank statements like the circles of your ammunition's finite | |
| Visionary nothing, you're a man who lives with hindsigh | |
| Return to the hive mind and call me back | |
| I’m predicting early that you’ll be the Monday morning quarterback | |
| So, cocksure in a culture that gangs up on bully-types | |
| Mob mentality, as if that isn't what a bully's like | |
| Inspiration strikes like an union | |
| I write these lines just to cross 'em, I'm concluding | |
| If my mama don't wanna she never has to work again | |
| You never asked me why I spread myself so thin | |
| I'm finna flirt dirty with the pen and flick my tongue on this bottom | |
| I promise writer's block ain't never been a problem | |
| I'll probably make the columns wanna pop bottles of pain relief | |
| Sometimes it's what you don't say that says the most to say the least | |
| Idle feet are the Devil’s fetish club | |
| A highly exclusive spots none of us are members of | |
| Dante is a scrub - we kicked him out the van and steamrolled him | |
| In 2010 we had a couple dreams stolen | |
| Me and B. Dolan relocked and reloaded | |
| When it feels like you're going through hell, keep going | |
| And as they say may the bridges that we burn light the way | |
| [Hook] | |
| [Outro:] | |
| Do it, do it - mess up my mind | |
| Do it, do it - mess up my mind | |
| Vonnegut busy |
| Intro: | |
| Of all the words of mice and men | |
| The saddest are, " it might have been" | |
| Of all the words of mice and men | |
| The saddest are | |
| Hook: | |
| I like for my shoes to look like they' ve been walked in | |
| My house to look like it' s been lived in | |
| My car to look like a coffin that' s been driven off a cliff | |
| My career like a nonstop graveyard shift | |
| Verse 1: | |
| Don' t clean the crime scene cause time means money | |
| Don' t need visine when my eyes seem bloody | |
| I see dead people, but who doesn' t? | |
| We walk undercover, deadpan blending in with other human puppets | |
| Discussing nothing but the sports and weather | |
| If I stare long enough they all morph together | |
| Then I freak out, it' ll blow my cover | |
| So I just keep out, no, we don' t know each other | |
| I' m on the road to recovery, no GPS | |
| Hoist in my sails ' till the sea breeze rests | |
| Suck wind if you wanna player hate | |
| Day to day I use my fear of falling asleep to stay awake | |
| I appear psychiclike, but I' m not a psychic | |
| You' re just predictable with no fight left to fight it | |
| If you write it they will come with a red pen and a tazergun | |
| Let' s do something | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 2: | |
| I sift through the ashes in search of surviviors | |
| Digging up the Earth filling urns with dirt | |
| For what it' s worth I' m richer than the cemetary soil | |
| I use slant drilling to get my midnight oil | |
| I' ve been moonlighting as a daydreamer | |
| I' m at the wheel of an eightseater, hey hey mister gatekeeper | |
| Call me key master, no, home owner | |
| One, two and to the three and to the foreclosure | |
| They said the war was over, but we know it wasn' t | |
| They wanted more soldiers so we said " sure, fuck it" | |
| Here' s a fresh batch of people with setbacks | |
| The poor folk, in fact they' re all broke cause of your debt traps | |
| Picking the pockets of people who probably needed assistance most | |
| Selling them lies, selling them out, sending them off to a distant coast | |
| Telling them anything anyone left with impossible debt is receptive to | |
| Breaking a promise of negative worth like " buddy there' s nothing left for you" | |
| Gotta buy buy buy to stay alive, they punish the payment delayed | |
| Then they charge you for the low balance then they ask " why didn' t you save?" | |
| Too long we took it on the chin, too long we took it to our grave | |
| Now we take what we can get, fuck an unlivable minimum wage | |
| Do something | |
| Bride: | |
| It might have been | |
| Do something | |
| It might have been | |
| Of all the words of mice and men | |
| The saddest are Vonnegut busy | |
| Do it, do it mess up my mind Vonnegut busy | |
| Do it, do it mess up my mind | |
| Verse 3: | |
| Sometimes I shoot myself in the foot, I put my foot in my mouth | |
| Clean it while it' s there, and then i suck the bullet out | |
| Reload the weapon, now that' s conservation | |
| Stay locked and loaded in a bad conversation | |
| He making blank statements like the circles of your ammunition' s finite | |
| Visionary nothing, you' re a man who lives with hindsigh | |
| Return to the hive mind and call me back | |
| I' m predicting early that you' ll be the Monday morning quarterback | |
| So, cocksure in a culture that gangs up on bullytypes | |
| Mob mentality, as if that isn' t what a bully' s like | |
| Inspiration strikes like an union | |
| I write these lines just to cross ' em, I' m concluding | |
| If my mama don' t wanna she never has to work again | |
| You never asked me why I spread myself so thin | |
| I' m finna flirt dirty with the pen and flick my tongue on this bottom | |
| I promise writer' s block ain' t never been a problem | |
| I' ll probably make the columns wanna pop bottles of pain relief | |
| Sometimes it' s what you don' t say that says the most to say the least | |
| Idle feet are the Devil' s fetish club | |
| A highly exclusive spots none of us are members of | |
| Dante is a scrub we kicked him out the van and steamrolled him | |
| In 2010 we had a couple dreams stolen | |
| Me and B. Dolan relocked and reloaded | |
| When it feels like you' re going through hell, keep going | |
| And as they say may the bridges that we burn light the way | |
| Hook | |
| Outro: | |
| Do it, do it mess up my mind | |
| Do it, do it mess up my mind | |
| Vonnegut busy |
| Intro: | |
| Of all the words of mice and men | |
| The saddest are, " it might have been" | |
| Of all the words of mice and men | |
| The saddest are | |
| Hook: | |
| I like for my shoes to look like they' ve been walked in | |
| My house to look like it' s been lived in | |
| My car to look like a coffin that' s been driven off a cliff | |
| My career like a nonstop graveyard shift | |
| Verse 1: | |
| Don' t clean the crime scene cause time means money | |
| Don' t need visine when my eyes seem bloody | |
| I see dead people, but who doesn' t? | |
| We walk undercover, deadpan blending in with other human puppets | |
| Discussing nothing but the sports and weather | |
| If I stare long enough they all morph together | |
| Then I freak out, it' ll blow my cover | |
| So I just keep out, no, we don' t know each other | |
| I' m on the road to recovery, no GPS | |
| Hoist in my sails ' till the sea breeze rests | |
| Suck wind if you wanna player hate | |
| Day to day I use my fear of falling asleep to stay awake | |
| I appear psychiclike, but I' m not a psychic | |
| You' re just predictable with no fight left to fight it | |
| If you write it they will come with a red pen and a tazergun | |
| Let' s do something | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 2: | |
| I sift through the ashes in search of surviviors | |
| Digging up the Earth filling urns with dirt | |
| For what it' s worth I' m richer than the cemetary soil | |
| I use slant drilling to get my midnight oil | |
| I' ve been moonlighting as a daydreamer | |
| I' m at the wheel of an eightseater, hey hey mister gatekeeper | |
| Call me key master, no, home owner | |
| One, two and to the three and to the foreclosure | |
| They said the war was over, but we know it wasn' t | |
| They wanted more soldiers so we said " sure, fuck it" | |
| Here' s a fresh batch of people with setbacks | |
| The poor folk, in fact they' re all broke cause of your debt traps | |
| Picking the pockets of people who probably needed assistance most | |
| Selling them lies, selling them out, sending them off to a distant coast | |
| Telling them anything anyone left with impossible debt is receptive to | |
| Breaking a promise of negative worth like " buddy there' s nothing left for you" | |
| Gotta buy buy buy to stay alive, they punish the payment delayed | |
| Then they charge you for the low balance then they ask " why didn' t you save?" | |
| Too long we took it on the chin, too long we took it to our grave | |
| Now we take what we can get, fuck an unlivable minimum wage | |
| Do something | |
| Bride: | |
| It might have been | |
| Do something | |
| It might have been | |
| Of all the words of mice and men | |
| The saddest are Vonnegut busy | |
| Do it, do it mess up my mind Vonnegut busy | |
| Do it, do it mess up my mind | |
| Verse 3: | |
| Sometimes I shoot myself in the foot, I put my foot in my mouth | |
| Clean it while it' s there, and then i suck the bullet out | |
| Reload the weapon, now that' s conservation | |
| Stay locked and loaded in a bad conversation | |
| He making blank statements like the circles of your ammunition' s finite | |
| Visionary nothing, you' re a man who lives with hindsigh | |
| Return to the hive mind and call me back | |
| I' m predicting early that you' ll be the Monday morning quarterback | |
| So, cocksure in a culture that gangs up on bullytypes | |
| Mob mentality, as if that isn' t what a bully' s like | |
| Inspiration strikes like an union | |
| I write these lines just to cross ' em, I' m concluding | |
| If my mama don' t wanna she never has to work again | |
| You never asked me why I spread myself so thin | |
| I' m finna flirt dirty with the pen and flick my tongue on this bottom | |
| I promise writer' s block ain' t never been a problem | |
| I' ll probably make the columns wanna pop bottles of pain relief | |
| Sometimes it' s what you don' t say that says the most to say the least | |
| Idle feet are the Devil' s fetish club | |
| A highly exclusive spots none of us are members of | |
| Dante is a scrub we kicked him out the van and steamrolled him | |
| In 2010 we had a couple dreams stolen | |
| Me and B. Dolan relocked and reloaded | |
| When it feels like you' re going through hell, keep going | |
| And as they say may the bridges that we burn light the way | |
| Hook | |
| Outro: | |
| Do it, do it mess up my mind | |
| Do it, do it mess up my mind | |
| Vonnegut busy |
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