I stand in salute to the last guns to shoot,
the dirt off the end of these ripped up boots,
tied, tight, for flight if needed,
indeed my plights been guided through the past and greeted by
the narrow path with wide angles,
we burn from the light of a solitary candle,
left on, till dawn breaks it’s head,
i rather hit snooze and let the tired rest under the bed,
the boogeyman laughs at his own existance,
characters reaching out from the small town distance,
you missed it, sorry that i said it,
usually, my tom foolery is only for the hardheaded,
with knuckles to bare and stories to share,
from the infants in the game, veterans in rocking chairs,
telling me how the days of old,
have suddenly vanished with all this glitter and gold,

someday i’ll write a classic,
sureshot make your world fantastic,
swing your fist, if the vibe hits, your chest,
release the scream, we’re making a mess
dance till your death,
move with all of your life,
dance till your death
move with all of your life.

I tells pops not worry, it’s a temporary fix,
we live life to die or die trying to get rich,
It’s all the same no matter how you throw the dice,
you get snake eyes, hear the same thing twice,
one plus one equals 2, much time on your hands,
kick the habit for the supply and demand,
now’s the moment to recruit your neighbors,
seperate the rookies from the players in the majors,
hit hard, stick fast, give your neck whiplash,
it’s all gonna change once these checks get cashed,
but the money is gone as quick as it appears,
the oppisite ideology of our careers,
the past is gone,realize and move on,
the pioneers got us here and we can’t do them wrong,
if they could move suburbs with words from the ghetto,
then the vibe is still traveling through jazz, folk, and metal,

someday i’ll write a classic,
kill a beat to have six carry the casket,
swing your fist, if the vibe hits, your chest,
release the scream, we’re making a mess
dance till your death,
move with all of your life,
dance till your death
move with all of your life.

kick down the door, break the glass ceiling with the four four,
tight enough to tip the odds and even the score,
me and the music go back to being children,
we used to fight for fun now it’s all business,
flashing peace signs while blasting kool g rap,
sometimes the road to riches looks just like that,
image of cyphers, in the freezing night,
standing outside the show in the circle of life,
bright lights shining eternal from the city of chi,
to the new hamp state of mind in autumnal skies,
hear it the devils cry, fear it in the heavy sigh,
something’s got to give, so i’m giving all to get mine,
mid twenties superstar,
never had a credit card,
to live debt free in these clubs and bars,
1000 mile trips, make your head do backflips,
moving the crowd like this takes years of practice,

someday i’ll write a classic,
sureshot make your world fantastic,
swing your fist, if the vibe hits, your chest,
release the scream, we’re making a mess
dance till your death,
move with all of your life,
dance till your death
move with all of your life.

someday i’ll write a classic,
kill a beat to have six carry the casket,
swing your fist, if the vibe hits, your chest,
release the scream, we’re making a mess
dance till your death,
move with all of your life,
dance till your death
move with all of your life.



Lyrics submitted by LutherBlissetshs

Making a Mess song meanings
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