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Correct Somethin' For The Kids Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: A
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Astronautalis
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Correct Somethin' For The Kids
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Lyrics:
Me and Fat Joe were riding in the back Of an industrial-strength delivery van I couldn't catch a clear view of the driver's face But I could tell it wasn't a feminine friend The ground plans for battle were all laid We were just taking some time to kick it with grapes and parlay It was just him and me in a van with the gate and gay We taste the grapes and spit the seeds in the street The highway was a scalpel splicing the sands an impressive impression Of man's demand for the connection of lands I look back at Joe and laugh I give the grapes a puff and a pass spitting another seed out of the back Joe squints his eyes Lets out a sound that can only be described as a laughter and a sad goodbye His pale olive fingers pry another one of the fruits off the vine "We should return here in ten years time." I ask him why "So we can drink the wine from the orchard that is grown from the seeds we Alone cast aside. " As the sun sunk lower on the sand, dust sprayed from the tires that picked Up the grains Displayed them in spirals And I held the last grape up to eclipse the sun The breeze plucked it from my fingers and the lunch was done Father was an engine driver Grandpa fought the war Hope that I can maybe size up Leave my mark at all Father was an engine driver Grandpa fought the war Hope that I can maybe size up Leave my mark at all Me and Tupac Shakur sat inside a donut shop Sharing a dozen and watching the coffee cool One by one the box slowly emptied From the cakes to the crullers and at last the fancies Pac sighed aloud so I could hear him "Donuts are communism" I asked him why, he said, "Better in theory" We laughed and scratched the sleep from our eyes He said, "This is ridiculous, 12 is too much, half a dozen wastes our time But every time we order twelve thinking we can handle it And every time we end up pissed because we made our stomachs sick" We both laugh a bit and gingerly sip our coffee His fingers scrape the tabletop and he digs in softly And I watch him there, carving, scraping, both sitting in silence As he engraves his name with the word "West side" beside it And underneath the orange veneer of the donut shop gear There's an earthy brown flesh that excavation makes appear And year after year Pac and I return there To the table that he claimed with the matching bench chairs Chug the last of our coffee and stand to leave Wave to the clerk, she says goodbye in Chinese Clutching our sick stomachs we both struggle to speak Shake our heads, split our waists, and say, "See you next week" Father was an engine driver Grandpa fought the war Hope that I can maybe size up Leave my mark at all Father was an engine driver Grandpa fought the war Hope that I can maybe size up Leave my mark at all Father was an engine driver Grandpa fought the war Hope that I can maybe size up Leave my mark at all Father was an engine driver Grandpa fought the war Hope that I can maybe size up You can sing along Father was an engine driver Grandpa fought the war Hope that I can maybe size up Leave my mark at all Father was an engine driver Grandpa fought the war Hope that I can maybe size up Leave my mark at all
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