Desperate Times, Mediocre Measures Songtext
von L.A. Salami
Desperate Times, Mediocre Measures Songtext
Sitting here just sipping on a Courvoisier
Slipping deeper into a suspicion that everything ends the same
Each man might have a mission to just advance his position
Any fault on a decision, the competition′s to game
How much kindness is left at the top, though
When you have a say of a child's fate a hundred miles away?
Power can only make power stop
So there seems to be a monopoly of power in every type of way
Old ideas can′t simply step aside
When they built the rules in which our world resides
And, hence, the cost of possessing the eyes
That witness the confines and qualities of time
The weight of truth that's really not benign
When you possess the eyes that create their own divine
Be glad to simply be given the time
To cultivate the love by which we must survive
Consciousness could simply be caution confined in constant etymologies of thought
In proportion to what is displayed
Experience, an inherent inheritance, a defence against all the questions
The gift of foresight can't help but display
How much can you trust mans at the top, though
When he makes a play for a piece of land a hundred miles away?
What good is left when you get to the top, though
When you have a say of decisions made a hundred miles away?
Does he have mind to concede his place, though
When position pays in the workings of this game?
Will he let you supersede his place? No
He′ll put you on the payroll and send you on your way
Old ideas can′t simply step aside
When they built the rules in which our world resides
And, hence, the cost of possessing the eyes
That witness the confines and qualities of time
The weight of truth that's really not benign
When you possess the eyes that create their own divine
Be glad to simply be given the time
To cultivate the love by which we must survive
Old ideas can′t simply step aside
When they built the rules in which our world resides
And, hence, the cost of possessing the eyes
That witness the confines and qualities of time
The weight of truth that's really not benign
When you possess the eyes that create their own divine
Be glad to simply be given the time
To cultivate the love by which we must survive
Slipping deeper into a suspicion that everything ends the same
Each man might have a mission to just advance his position
Any fault on a decision, the competition′s to game
How much kindness is left at the top, though
When you have a say of a child's fate a hundred miles away?
Power can only make power stop
So there seems to be a monopoly of power in every type of way
Old ideas can′t simply step aside
When they built the rules in which our world resides
And, hence, the cost of possessing the eyes
That witness the confines and qualities of time
The weight of truth that's really not benign
When you possess the eyes that create their own divine
Be glad to simply be given the time
To cultivate the love by which we must survive
Consciousness could simply be caution confined in constant etymologies of thought
In proportion to what is displayed
Experience, an inherent inheritance, a defence against all the questions
The gift of foresight can't help but display
How much can you trust mans at the top, though
When he makes a play for a piece of land a hundred miles away?
What good is left when you get to the top, though
When you have a say of decisions made a hundred miles away?
Does he have mind to concede his place, though
When position pays in the workings of this game?
Will he let you supersede his place? No
He′ll put you on the payroll and send you on your way
Old ideas can′t simply step aside
When they built the rules in which our world resides
And, hence, the cost of possessing the eyes
That witness the confines and qualities of time
The weight of truth that's really not benign
When you possess the eyes that create their own divine
Be glad to simply be given the time
To cultivate the love by which we must survive
Old ideas can′t simply step aside
When they built the rules in which our world resides
And, hence, the cost of possessing the eyes
That witness the confines and qualities of time
The weight of truth that's really not benign
When you possess the eyes that create their own divine
Be glad to simply be given the time
To cultivate the love by which we must survive
Writer(s): Lookman Adekunle Salami Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
