Letra da Música Extreme To Me de Kris Demeanor
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It's a revolution, we're in the midst of it
Physical fortitude pushed to the limit
And the focus, the spirit at one with the task
Fuelled by a beatbox and very good grass
Like the Vikings and Monguls in centuries past
It isn't knowledge they seek, but adrenalin blast
Without the pillage of the village it has none of the sin
Just the annoyance, avoidance of the looking within
In a way, it's refreshing alternative to the boys on line with their hands down their pants and the perfectly proportioned girls waiting in line for implants
Nonetheless, let's confess we'll have to hasten an educated guess
There is a fat line between bold and witless
Embrace all things that frighten us shifteless?
Explanations for we the weak, that's the dare, that's the scare, that's extreme to me
If brains were balls, en masse castration, frame the masses, feed the frustration
Look no further than a world class town where the rodeo bull is the sacred cow- "Do you wanna go faster!?"
Another headhunting radio is danging scalps
The lead story, twelve dead in the alps
Now ideally, it's apparently quite a kick
Descending canyons unrealistically quick
A close relation said 'It's some consolation, they've been sent above doing something they love'
The next story, a South African min, shafts collapse, 220 dead this time
What's the headline? What's the footnote?
Twelve die doing something they love, 220 die doing what they have to do
It's they don't say, it's what we don't see, that's the dare, that's the scare, that's extreme to me
This is the prime time for slights and reproaches
The hollow promise of a new age approaches
Leave it to a race of workaday grumblers to celebrate a cycle of arbitrary numbers
What's the accomlishment simply passing through time?
Every race has a finish line
I want to know who's going to be the first fleeting face to grace the frontier of billboards in space
Superspecialized automatons light years more efficient at cutting their lawns
So keep tuning in, habits a whore and it's only worth the money if you go at it hardcore
For the moment, next to the next brick
All I can bring myself to be is troubled sick
When we're all where we don't want to be, that's the dare, that's the scare, that's extreme to me
Physical fortitude pushed to the limit
And the focus, the spirit at one with the task
Fuelled by a beatbox and very good grass
Like the Vikings and Monguls in centuries past
It isn't knowledge they seek, but adrenalin blast
Without the pillage of the village it has none of the sin
Just the annoyance, avoidance of the looking within
In a way, it's refreshing alternative to the boys on line with their hands down their pants and the perfectly proportioned girls waiting in line for implants
Nonetheless, let's confess we'll have to hasten an educated guess
There is a fat line between bold and witless
Embrace all things that frighten us shifteless?
Explanations for we the weak, that's the dare, that's the scare, that's extreme to me
If brains were balls, en masse castration, frame the masses, feed the frustration
Look no further than a world class town where the rodeo bull is the sacred cow- "Do you wanna go faster!?"
Another headhunting radio is danging scalps
The lead story, twelve dead in the alps
Now ideally, it's apparently quite a kick
Descending canyons unrealistically quick
A close relation said 'It's some consolation, they've been sent above doing something they love'
The next story, a South African min, shafts collapse, 220 dead this time
What's the headline? What's the footnote?
Twelve die doing something they love, 220 die doing what they have to do
It's they don't say, it's what we don't see, that's the dare, that's the scare, that's extreme to me
This is the prime time for slights and reproaches
The hollow promise of a new age approaches
Leave it to a race of workaday grumblers to celebrate a cycle of arbitrary numbers
What's the accomlishment simply passing through time?
Every race has a finish line
I want to know who's going to be the first fleeting face to grace the frontier of billboards in space
Superspecialized automatons light years more efficient at cutting their lawns
So keep tuning in, habits a whore and it's only worth the money if you go at it hardcore
For the moment, next to the next brick
All I can bring myself to be is troubled sick
When we're all where we don't want to be, that's the dare, that's the scare, that's extreme to me
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Ficha Técnica da Música Extreme To Me
Número de Palavras | 360 |
Número de Letras | 2364 |
Intérprete | Kris Demeanor |
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