06/CINNAMON SANDS
[Verse 1]
Living life rose-tinted, residing where the sky isn’t blue
The wiser the user, the less vibrant the hue
Monochrome constant, watch the blossoms
Don’t call it pigeonholed vision, consider it refining the zoom
Ask the fourth wall to take a break to widen the room, sigh at the moon
Who’s supposed to heal me when time is the wound?
Live from the uh
Exposed landline wires by the hand-grown pile of cubеs
Pick your poison, take a while to choose
Ovеrthinking it only to stick with Pinna Park
Parsing out picture-disk-emitted pixels
Did it in a sitting and didn’t depart
In the dark, clicking start, never missing the spark
Left a skin inscription, visual mark
Fuck it, cut the heartstrings
Pluck the same tune, only harshened
Blow the dust out, flip the cartridge
Wide open shot, still miss the target
All revolvers spin in circles, so they didn’t guard it
[Chorus]
Hit a couple of years, never grew wings
Translucent on the mood rings, yeah
Hit a couple of years, never grew wings
Chop me down, count my few rings, yeah
Hit a couple of years, never grew wings
Translucent on the mood rings, uh
Hit a couple of years, never grew wings
Chop me down, count my few rings, yeah

[Verse 2]
Dodge dances in the school gym, standing firm on my two left feet
’06 Commander bench seats, squad deep
Steal second and third, stranded dead meat
Mitt didn’t pop, pitcher missed his spot and blamed it on me
Ready, set, freeze, score’s seven to three
Wednesday evening upset, record says we never bested a team
Left with worn leather and short memory
Reborn on second-decrepit-hand bedsheets, red metal that creaks
Half-full glass of OJ matches the plastic weapon of choice
Set of four branded-heavenly boys
Halos growing opaque, cancerous wedding is void
Showing my age with defenses deployed
Celestial praise fades with the treble in the voice
Clip the wings, sink or swim
Troubled bays bubbling, begging to rejoice
Pray we catch a wave, impatiently convince myself that treading is a joy
[Chorus]
Hit a couple of years, never grew wings
Translucent on the mood rings, yeah
Hit a couple of years, never grew wings
Chop me down, count my few rings