More

Michael Bradshaw

Rocking up to the party, right
Plastic cup for a cask of wine
These days a good vibe is hard to find
I ask for a cigarette, she asks for mine
Got my hand in my pocket
Prescription pills and I pop it
Our conversation off topic
She's borderline and I cross it
Hand shake with these strangers
Synthetic mood, feel it changing
Party people get jaded
Every inch of youth fading
Friends I wish I was closer with
Close to overdose to get closer with
Disconnected, don't know the clique
Feeling shit like I'm sobering
I don't normally do this shit
Suffocate on nangs like a lunatic
Talking absolute fucking stupid shit
Chewing tips off balloons and twist
One gram to herself like a super bitch
Fuzzing out, whose room is this?
Her eyes shift like a human glitch
I can see into her mind like I'm zooming in
Ear worm, eight chords
Why you making that face for?
I made my high, you need to take more
Feeling born, cut the chord
Am I ever gonna get myself off the floor?
Level, can you get me up to yours?
I need something more
I need something more
I need something more
I need something more
I need something more
I need something more
It's Wednesday, I'm a useless cunt
Uni student, but a stupid fuck
If I sleep here will they take offence?
I can't pay for brunch, but okay, whatev'
I'm jacking off, trying to get endorphins
Son of god, like a fucking orphan
Write in code, but I can't record it
Normal life, but I can't afford it
I can only pay attention for a couple seconds
Never feeling rested, did you get my message?
Climb a tower just to feel the blessing
Never proud of nothing, always stressing
Wrinkled ball sacks shower themselves in
Glory they inherited
Skilled people can barely make
Half a living that their parents did
Egos with heads so big, they bump
Can't fit in the same room
Downstairs pride gets so thick
Can't tell that people hate you
Receptionist out of chewing gum
So her front teeth on her cuticles
Constantly checks her name tag
Because everyone calls her beautiful
Binge drinking in the office
Because your boss listened to your booty call
The CEO smells the same as you
In his shirt and tie in the cubicle
Eight hours just feels too long
Am I ever gonna get myself a real job?
All the way to the upper floor
I need something more
I need something more
I need something more
I need something more
I need something more
I need something
The future is illusion, in the
Thought pollution, make excuses
In the moment, you gotta zone in
It's gonna feel fucked, but you gotta focus
Running out of dough, call dad up, the back up
You ran up on empty, add up the debt, go
Rack up the stack, back after sex, blow
Rack after rack after rack after bed, don't
Get awkward with eye contact, my
Mind's on tap with vinyl strapped, to the
Chest, rewind, recycle back, to a
Time when I was younger, when a
Bit of fun didn't fuck up your week
In fact it's tucked where you buck up your feet
In the backseat, young as fuck, 17
You can't get knocked down in cuffs
The only time you got is now
The question that you want is how
The fuck do I do anything?
Without falling prey to the little things?
Writers block in this icy frost, and my
Head hot like a tiny lock, and I
Found the key, tried to pick the lock, but I
Snapped it off, now I'm pissed off
Stress test to achieve goals, but I
Always seem to just get lost
Nowadays a new box reappears
Every time I get one ticked off
Work, work, work, I need to work boy
Am I ever gonna fill the gaps in this void
Perfectionist at the core
I need something more I need something more
I need something more
I need something more
I need something more
I need something
I need something more
I need something more
I need something more
I need something more

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Das Lied “More” von Michelangelo wurde von Michael Bradshaw komponiert.

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