Buck 65 - Riverbed 4 lyrics
[Buck 65 - Riverbed 4 lyrics]
The moon is blue tonight
The wind is freezing
The river is restless and
I have stopped breathing
An upside down swordfish
Pierced my parachute, fireflies
Flicker and it makes you want
To hide your eyes i breathe out gently right
Before my own death exhaling the mist of a
Three quarter tone breath
Like a pyramid of heartbeats
Everything fainting
Like the windless delicacy of the
Air in Chinese paintings
I inhale the ashes of past deaths and dust
From butterflies wings and particles of rust
My eyes become gemstones
Forgetting the fears for glittering merely
Not the shedding of tears
Sleep recites the psalm of the damned
No need to watch the flame of my
Life in the palm of my hand
As pale as the holy
Ghost speaking many languages
No one knows the secret, no enemy vanquishes
The dream will watch over it, as I lie broken
No need to remain with eyes wide open
The pulp of roots and mile
Of cactus eases my pains
The quick silver drippings of the
Trees in my veins
A matress of moss, candles in my branches
Carried by the wind, buried by avalanches
Everything proceeds in slow motion under here
No wonder this is the sleep
Of one hundred years
The wind is freezing
The river is restless and
I have stopped breathing
An upside down swordfish
Pierced my parachute, fireflies
Flicker and it makes you want
To hide your eyes i breathe out gently right
Before my own death exhaling the mist of a
Three quarter tone breath
Like a pyramid of heartbeats
Everything fainting
Like the windless delicacy of the
Air in Chinese paintings
I inhale the ashes of past deaths and dust
From butterflies wings and particles of rust
My eyes become gemstones
Forgetting the fears for glittering merely
Not the shedding of tears
Sleep recites the psalm of the damned
No need to watch the flame of my
Life in the palm of my hand
As pale as the holy
Ghost speaking many languages
No one knows the secret, no enemy vanquishes
The dream will watch over it, as I lie broken
No need to remain with eyes wide open
The pulp of roots and mile
Of cactus eases my pains
The quick silver drippings of the
Trees in my veins
A matress of moss, candles in my branches
Carried by the wind, buried by avalanches
Everything proceeds in slow motion under here
No wonder this is the sleep
Of one hundred years