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lirik lagu otis mensah – people

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verse 1

life will present you with people made paradoxes
check the rhetoric like aristotle
how we supposed to cherry blossom
when power and apparels everything that makes up your barrow
 banes of your existence and harrowed by narrow school’s of thought
 taught by aristocracy singing carols consumeristic
illusions pulling my visions back like centrifugal forces
applying pressure, tilt
my mind contorts
who knew a life before this
pre logic, squeezed tight like corsets
made this mic my fortress
this rhythm and raucous to shake you out your rigor mortis
because over -n-lysing lack of sense can cause the jaundice
yellow belled with a sort of nausea
now even leaving the house is grandiose
and a sort of torture
now let’s explore this:

if the philosopher refused to pay the rent
for months on end because the meaning seemed to be bent
would you debate a comprise
try to make sense;
 “foolish to invest in sp-ce & time
when you can transcend”
he said

if the philanthropist just caught a murder charge
and the money she gave was stolen from the victim of facade
would the charity keep the money for staffroom meeting biscuits
 “this espresso machine costs
no point in crying for what’s lost.”

and if the activist was found to be a m-s-ch-st
fighting the cause but risking it all for the call of pain & death
could a revolution morph from such a s-d-st motive sought
and sail away to sh-r-s of change
now stuck in cults called communes
bored

if you discovered your couples therapist got divorced
after a tour of her happy house just a month before
would you keep it a secrete from your wife
and pay the fraud
would you ponder the truth
or integrity traded, mourned
maybe you decide there’s no law or fate to make you talk
“better to keep her quiet
desire’s a dormant storm”
rather allude to trying
than a life long marriage dying
a retirement spent in sorrow
and lonely split apart

if church inst-tutions;
insidious and worship satan
but crooks and liars, thieves
made walking with christ their vocation
is h-ll fire raining down on the boat your soul is sailing
point out the madness or avoid jur-ssic altercation

chorus

how many people truly fit inside your head?
do we meet new people or trade people instead?
how many times have you walked the same way to work?
how many people do you truly give your love?
for what it’s worth

how many people know you like when you’re alone?
who would visit your house if you turned off your phone?
who would be the first person to discover your death?
if you lived a life that’s grotesque and only paid money respect

verse 2

how to be?
which way to go?
i never know to run on by
or take it slow
artistic license helps me see hypocrisy
between meritocracy & mediocrity
and here i float

we’re all trapped inside terrariums
trying to bloom inside this tiny patch of sp-ce they give
i see this system driving faithless
so imma write my life on paper planes
burn them at wits end
crack the gl-ss and kamikaze crash into this cage we’re in

no opium for m-sses
a symposium for action
suppose your soul is solely an apparatus to crack the fascist
no cauldrons, bows & arrows
false profits that camp in castes
just shed light on them with new flows like coronary byp-sses

the moral of the story:
we’ve been impoverished by thought
and forced into a mind state created by states of contortion
 distorted visions and truman show premonitions
made to think our character
in the narrative
don’t matter
it’s oblivion

chorus

how many people truly fit inside your head?
do we meet new people or trade people instead?
how many times have you walked the same way to work?
how many people do you truly give your love?
for what it’s worth

how many people know you like when you’re alone?
who would visit your house if you turned off your phone?
who would be the first person to discover your death?
if you lived a life that’s grotesque and only paid money respect
money respect

and only paid money respect
money respect

and only paid money respect
and only paid money re

we’ve been broke
for the past two hundred years

the philosopher
the fork in the road

pain in my heart
p-ss on my jeans

love
in my soul

yo intern, play that jazz


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