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lyrics

verse 1:
fresh out of quarantine, still on the sick side
neck-deep, trying to keep both feet shifting
holding on with a grip tighter than a riptide
& i can't feel nothing but the music, i'm slipping
tripping through the street to the beat of my own drum
all riled up, wild-eyed like i'm on one
sifting through the sand as it shifts in an hourglass
sunset behind my back, following the shadow cast
searching for a sign, or at least for a little sanity
still seeking out the secrets of defeating gravity
flying high as a kite with no strings attached to it
collapse right into a ring of fire & mash through it
without a singe, thinking if this all ends
here, let it be, i'm already on a loose hinge
truth is that it's just as much a part of me
as the blood that pumps from my heart through my arteries
and...

chorus:
...i can't feel nothing but the music, i'm slipping
neck-deep, trying to keep both feet shifting
living with this addiction, ain't a damn thing different
i can't feel nothing but the music, i'm slipping

can't feel nothing but the...
can't feel nothing but the...
can't feel nothing but the music, i'm slipping... (x 2)

verse 2:
all wrapped up in the havoc & haze
sitting spaced out, staring at the static for days
& when the thoughts start to gather into patterns of rage
i watch the words burn holes through the back of the page
spent the better part of my childhood trapped in a cage
then came right back to renovate it after the blaze
tore the roof off just so i could stand in the rain
& rearrange a few things in the back of my brain
it's sort of strange how mixed a head can get
when it's force-fed religion from a television set
then studied by the satellites to measure the effect
given one pill to remember & the other to forget
flash back to the grill with the will to survive
still alive, staying high for the thrill of the ride
getting by with a little bit of innovation, in the basement
integrating my intent on sitting in the sky...

chorus

fresh out of quarantine, still on the sick side (x 3)
holding on with a grip tighter than a riptide
pumped full of thorazine, got to get the 'scrip signed (x 3)
docs keep telling me i'm still on the sick side

chorus

credits

from Smoke Signals to Satellites, released April 16, 2008

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Icarus Jones and Dbeat San Francisco, California

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