Grass Shack Songtext
von Guerilla Toss
Grass Shack Songtext
Quality and sanity
Buldging and receding
Ring around the edges
A blurry figure
′Cause if you find a needle
Inside of a grass shack
Bent up and misshapen
Deformed pattern
Balance and lucidity
Pushing but not needing
Keep it at the surface
The right or the reason
So collect all the details
From one thing to another
A hazy figure told me
Lack want, need, faster
Blurry fuzzy muted
Not so very clear
Murky or monotonous
Can't see or hear
I do not know tomorrow
Only today
A powder identity
A head made of clay
She saw patterns in sleep but also on the TV screen
Observing and waiting for an image or
Message derived, from a place she had grown to lean
Why go outside, and look at the public feature?
Maybe to go out see a show, or, to change the scenery
Peeling her frame from the sheet
Trails of light followed each image in motion
Led by a small square of paper
It was rough, pointed on the edges and not entirely square
Peering behind in her peripheral the idea felt was spherical
A question asked but never resolved loomed in the air
Until the door opened
Parting ways with a forgetful air perhaps using it later
To tie together two pieces of rope or stretch
A rubber band over a jar
She closed the door and paced
Strutting and moving around
Shifting the shoulders up and down
Assessing every fingertip and limb
All the images pulsing and breathing also with a halo rim
Stumbling towards the way, passing by every tree
Or figure lined behind a dull grey
Mundanely molded as a replica of the next
In a clay, factory, built on land with a hex
A walk in the winter turned into a walk in the spring
As the grey turned to green and the cold started to melt away
Patterns still lay on the front of her eyes
And shadows could still be seen in the corners
A truth or a figment? I can′t even stand it
Without seeing or hearing was as good as blinking in the dark
A pin in the heart
That rushed up and out to patterns in the TV
What's good in reality? the difference in dreams and mortality
The form or the picture or the light and the fixture?
Quality and sanity bursting into abnormality
The holiest
Buldging and receding
Ring around the edges
A blurry figure
′Cause if you find a needle
Inside of a grass shack
Bent up and misshapen
Deformed pattern
Balance and lucidity
Pushing but not needing
Keep it at the surface
The right or the reason
So collect all the details
From one thing to another
A hazy figure told me
Lack want, need, faster
Blurry fuzzy muted
Not so very clear
Murky or monotonous
Can't see or hear
I do not know tomorrow
Only today
A powder identity
A head made of clay
She saw patterns in sleep but also on the TV screen
Observing and waiting for an image or
Message derived, from a place she had grown to lean
Why go outside, and look at the public feature?
Maybe to go out see a show, or, to change the scenery
Peeling her frame from the sheet
Trails of light followed each image in motion
Led by a small square of paper
It was rough, pointed on the edges and not entirely square
Peering behind in her peripheral the idea felt was spherical
A question asked but never resolved loomed in the air
Until the door opened
Parting ways with a forgetful air perhaps using it later
To tie together two pieces of rope or stretch
A rubber band over a jar
She closed the door and paced
Strutting and moving around
Shifting the shoulders up and down
Assessing every fingertip and limb
All the images pulsing and breathing also with a halo rim
Stumbling towards the way, passing by every tree
Or figure lined behind a dull grey
Mundanely molded as a replica of the next
In a clay, factory, built on land with a hex
A walk in the winter turned into a walk in the spring
As the grey turned to green and the cold started to melt away
Patterns still lay on the front of her eyes
And shadows could still be seen in the corners
A truth or a figment? I can′t even stand it
Without seeing or hearing was as good as blinking in the dark
A pin in the heart
That rushed up and out to patterns in the TV
What's good in reality? the difference in dreams and mortality
The form or the picture or the light and the fixture?
Quality and sanity bursting into abnormality
The holiest
Writer(s): Guerilla Toss Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
