[Phantom Nanny - demo rap album] 10 Glassballs

Описание: Glassballs

Punching above my weight class;
try’na get respect, tryin' just to connect.
Punching above my weight class,
but apparently nothing at all is all that’s left.

Punching up gave me both my worst and finest times.
I was dying for the money fight, but changed my mind.
Ghost Boxing reminded me to pick my battles carefully;
and so, stylistically, I stuffed away those dreams.

I got a box and I packed my gloves and trunks in,
but certain thoughts of her bust it open again, and then
I see the suit and feel the clinch to be the next contender;
like a butterfly, my mind floats back to the training center.

My adversary, I kept in mind, with each punch I practiced -
but, mostly, I was hoping she would see my matches.
I would throw the meanest blows, the kind from bouts of ol’;
I’d really leave her reeling. I’d realize my goal.

But, before this king could seize the day and get his crown,
she eloped with the opponent and they ghosted town.
My glass jaw was shattered; star-shine scattered
in my head, as I laid to bed everything I thought had mattered.

I howled, “Where’s the fight?” “Had she been cajoled?” -
as I wept, and kept shadowboxing for the gold.
My every counter was one more swing and one more miss,
until I got knocked out by my own mindlessness.

It was then, I met my conscience corner-man;
he sat me up to hydrate me, and re-make my plan.
He said, “You took some damage, kid, but believe one thing -
if you truly love this sport, you gotta leave it in the ring.”

Punching above my weight class;
try’na get respect, tryin' just to connect.
Punching above my weight class,
but apparently nothing at all is all that’s left.
Punching above my weight class;
try’na get respect, tryin' just to connect.
Punching above my weight class,
but apparently nothing at all is all that’s left.

I’ve punched above my weight, to find my best reliefs and worst distresses
going toe-to-toe and blow-for-blow, until one acquiesces.
And, I guess I’ve come to find
these times are what define if you’re truly the glorious kind.

I wanna be that kind.
I wanna see 'em rollin' back.

I mostly quit the game. Would I be back someday?
I don’t know, but for now, I’ve packed my gear away.
And, I can mostly control those old notions, it seems,
but it’s a whole other story when they’re storming my dreams.

I feel the vindication I so badly need;
I sleepwalk, grab that box, and maul it ‘til my knuckles bleed.
Why is this closure a war that I must go alone?
I know there’s no way that she was too slow to have known.

My seething insecurities, I repeatedly strike.
How did I turn into a style of fighter I don’t like?
So, I finally wake up; I’m washed up, by the sink.
Through tearful eyes, I look in the mirror and really think.

I should have known that even with my hardest slug,
there was no way I could check-hook such a winning mug.
So, I grab the roll of tape, to once more encase
that box of dreams, and put that foolishness back in its place.

But first, I let out a sigh, and once more
say my “last goodbye,” to the shoe-shine hopes that I once wore.
Cuz I know dreams fight dirty and always get off clean;
still, I gotta thwart the ghosts and low-blows inbetween.

Cuz even when the fight I fight is not to fight,
I gotta keep training, to make it through those rough nights.
And as I lay back down, I know this wasn’t all in vain,
cuz 'punching up' so much trained me way beyond the game.

Punching above my weight class;
and, it trained me way, way beyond the game.
Punching above my weight class;
blood, sweat, and tears, raining on your blue bouquet.
Punching above my weight class;
and, it trained me way, way beyond the game.
Punching above my weight class;
blood, sweat, and tears, raining on your blue bouquet.

They can dominate their class of elusives, like heroes.
Ain’t I gonna miss none of this, oh, no.
Kiss a river of fists, kiss a river of fists.
Ain’t I gonna miss none of this, oh, no.
They can dominate their class of elusives, like heroes.
Ain’t I gonna miss none of this, oh, no.
Kiss a river of fists, kiss a river of fists.
Ain’t I gonna miss none of this, oh, no.

I wanna see 'em rollin back.

Copyright 2024 Andrew R Schulke. All rights reserved.