lirik lagu ricardo mullins - no. 8 1/2
(i think you know my number. i think you wanna add.)
(monologue)
you know, i sit and ponder on my bed. and i look around, and i think, “why am i sitting here? i can do anything.” and then i remember the day. i remember it like it was yesterday. i only remember 1/2 of the messages sent, and 1/2 of the messages returned. i call that day, no. 8 1/2 because of the simple fact that it’s the eighth worse thing that i didn’t like, but halfed. the bedroom is a simple circle, a sphere of my memories. doesn’t matter if it changes or if it doesn’t, its still one big room, to me. each memory is a diagnostic piece of info. so, will the real number eight please stand?
(i think you wanna be closer, but you don’t got my place. i’m so high~high~higher, and you’re so fa~fa~far. you’re not number 8, cause i am.)
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