Paroles de 'Winsome' par Luke De-Sciscio

Come morning on morning
I labour the yawning
Waking from slumber
To visions of I
Relabour his form
And venturing on
Hit high over chord
And keep boring the time

The jars are all shaded
Colour graded
From denim, black faded
To hungover jade
I'll keep listening
In search of a christening
Jesus don't love me
But we're all here to glisten

I'm my mother's baby
I'm half way crazy
Eternally gifted
And tirelessly lazy
I'm matter in motion
My own most devoted
Proudly owning my denial

I undertook the time
Make a man of mine
See you all inside
And disappear the lines
I'm bleeding from scripture
Death to the hipster
Years in the balance
And no way to fix you

I'm longer than most
Still scared of ghosts
Have bread with my butter
And savour the ghosts
My mother incarnate
Not enough like my father
Winsome
Losersome
These tracks unguarded

I'm dead in every rorschach
Bleeding from the floor crack
Fathering like Cruikshank
Stealing from the blood bank
Reppin' double corduroy
Thinking too much into Freud
Probably suppressing having thoughts about undressing
Never arrive
Never late
Never one to wait
You're never gonna make it Dewey
Never gonna make a man out of me
Set fire to my dream
I've had enough of dreams
Set fire to me

I'm longer than most
Still scared of ghosts
Have bread with my butter
And savour the ghosts
I'm my mother incarnate
Not enough like my father
Winsome
Losersome
These tracks unguarded