Featuring Austin Kehoe of "The Winter Kings" this song fuses Hip-Hop with Folk, Blues and traces of Boogie. Although the topic at hand is that of the hopeless and the damned, The music somehow finds its way to upbeat and fun territory. This song is a liquor drenched expedition into the downward spiraling world of bad habits and worse luck...best served live.
lyrics
VERSE 1:
A tale of escapism in its worst form
Amidst a circus of night life come join the curse born
Hell’s finest, released from our cells
To chain smoke and knock back Bell’s until the room propels
When men of jinx come to socialize
The bar know to keep us in supply while we plot to drink the house dry
We stagger the land of limbo cussed
But this is how we’ve come to adjust, ash to dust
Forget the week just gone, march on
Keep the drink strong, praise my mates and live long
And because life’s hard we need no reason to pass
Out the panama cigars, lift glass and have a laugh
Compare cars and war scars as we compete
To do whatever keeps the day-to-day beast asleep
Every week under hexed weather we come together
To get leathered and hope we don’t stay cursed forever
CHORUS:
I sing for the angels, but they don’t hear my song
So I dance for the devil, my feet get danced upon
So I drink to feel better, but it only makes me feel worse
No I just can’t seem to break this foolish curse
VERSE 2:
So some upstairs is laughing at me
As my drunken boat sails these bloodshot seas
And all the angels spurn me and the devils do their worst
No one shall ever break…break this foolish curse…
I’ve sung for the angels I’ve danced for the devil
There’s nothing I haven’t done for the sake of try’na keep my life level
Still it never seems to work it’s like somebody’s got me cursed
And when I try to reverse it the effects are adverse
Only proof spirit liquors can fend off the witchcraft
That buries my luck like secrets of the past
And Rass watch me level this glass over and over
Til I cast out the trouble and toil of being soba
CHORUS:
I sing for the angels, but they don’t hear my song
So I dance for the devil, my feet get danced upon
So I drink to feel better, but it only makes me feel worse
No I just can’t seem to break this foolish curse
VERSE 3:
Strong stomachs and dead hearts, til overdose do we part
Toast before we turn this bar into Noah’s arc
In full swing, the riff-raff kings
Rock the tables and sing til the time bell rings
On a quest to drag down these voodoo chains
Straight back into the putrid flames of whence they came
Laugher in a cloud of cigarette smoke (poof)
Money plays, a deck of cards and a shot glass, loaded with jokes
We pass the midnight stroke, up the pace
One O’Clock, two, three o’clock run the race
Pick your poison and proceed, a method guaranteed
To bleed out this breed of parasites that feed
On our wishes, and it shows on our faces
Shot through we use drink to wrestle our woes on a daily bases
Whiskey chasers deliver us to sunrise
Baptized in light, flat down we capsize
CHORUS:
I sing for the angels, but they don’t hear my song
So I dance for the devil, my feet get danced upon
So I drink to feel better, but it only makes me feel worse
No I just can’t seem to break this foolish curse...
credits
from Self Portrait,
released August 23, 2012
Music and lyrics by Smiffy
Rapper/Songwriter of an eclectic, organic style of urban music. Drawing influence from some of history's musical greats,
together with his own unique wash over the genre, a new take on street music is emerging. True to life pictures of hope and despair are painted using eloquent lyrics and melodic music resulting in powerful, atmospheric songs which transform listeners into trees amid a storm....more
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