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lirik lagu watsky – dreams and boxes

i think i know where all my problems come from (california)
i never really had the guts to look under that log
i need them all, all, all to love me
but they see through me so easy
i wish i could believe in your god
sounds fun, we could throw rocks out of heaven
i get these dark thoughts every day now
i never thought i’d be that one
good news, i’m way too scared to do it
and i have too much fun being scared

i’m in this for life
like it or not
i’m not going anywhere, anywhere
i’m in this for life
like it or not
you will have to drag me by the neck

i’m not gonna bail
writing on the ceiling of the box while the coffin is nailed
california dreamin’ while the demons are hot on our tail
hop a curb, yes, that was me off the trail, officer
no, i don’t have a good reason
i was just in a mood to go seeking
heard a hard poem, it had my heart thumpin’
start my blood pumping again

this one is for the people who raised me up
it’s for the people who raised me up
if you remember one thing, then remember how it felt
when you felt for the first time
this one is for the people who raised me up
it’s for the people who raised me up
if you remember one thing, then remember how it felt

i’m in this for life
i’m not going anywhere, anywhere
i’m in this for life
drag me by the neck

you want your holy grail
try not to overthink it
i try but always fail
but i want it so d~mn bad
i’m addicted to life

if i lived how i thought that you want me to live
i don’t think you’d like what you got
if i shot my poetry out of a cannon
would it make it any better?
if you fill a gun with glitter
what’ll become of the bullet
if you’re only suffering under a veil?

i’m in this for life
like it or not
i’m not going anywhere, anywhere
i’m in this for life
like it or not
you will have to drag me by the neck

i dreamed i understood myself completely
we were having a party in a house falling out of the sky
every clique showed up
the ones who love the smell of gasoline
the shy beautifuls
the microphone eaters
the gimme gimme gimmes
the maybe next years
the boring childhooders who trashed their lives for fun
the house rotated as it made it through the storm
eyeball~sized hail sailed sideways through the windows
as the single pane, survived~the~great~fire hundred~year~old glass all smashed
we laughed and dropped the hailstones in our drinks and danced
we started chanting something optimistic that we knew that it was maybe mostly bullsh~t
but that if we even still felt one~tenth of one percent how we felt in that moment in the morning
that it would be an energy could shake neighborhoods from their foundations

we dragged ourselves on a twenty~mile mission to fill our goblets in the kitchen
i got stopped by a hallway goblin named frank
who said he once dreamed karl marx and rosa parks were beating the sh~t out of him
which gave him a full body ~rg~sm
i told him my dad ~n~lyzes dreams for a living and believes they’re portals to the subconscious
and i believe him and i don’t judge you, we’re all weirdos
my dad still refuses to drive beemers because they made cars for hitler
but i always suspected that was convenient logic
for a family that could only afford used station wagons
i told him how in a drawer in my house i found a matchbook from my dad’s 1955 bar mitzvah
it still had nine dry unused matches that hadn’t been torn from the cardboard
it’s a time machine and remains my second most prized possession
do you understand this, frank?
you’re in the presence of a motherf~cker who owns fire from the past
can you imagine getting high with a flame from 1955? can you?
do you feel connected to your ancestors? do you?
do you ever feel strange? wonder how the world’s gaze has shaped you?
do you fear being shaken by the shoulders like an etch a sketch
being mugged for your memories? i do
they are my first most prized possession
my very first memory was sitting in a high chair with my brother the day the bay ripped in two
the earthquake shook the china from the shelves and we clapped because we didn’t understand
i told him how my mother’s father died in a plane crash
i told him how my brother grew up to be a pilot
and then the captain, which apparently the building had and was my brother
came over the intercom, which apparently the building had
and alerted the party that house was starting to spin faster
and soon it would be time for us to hit the ground
so either buckle your seatbelts, say your prayers
or find someone who wants to f~ck you
china was smashing against the ceiling
me and frank said our goodbyes easily
once i realized i’d been having a conversation in the mirror the whole time
i climbed out of a window and clung to a drainpipe and watched the stars paint the sky

little boxes on the hillside
(elbows, shoulders and my knees and toes)
(i got my elbows, shoulders and my knees and toes)
little boxes on the hillside
(elbows, shoulders and my knees and toes)
(i got my elbows, shoulders and my knees and toes)

i see a ghost on every corner
of the people that we used to be
so many that they sit upon the shoulders
of their brothers and their sisters
as our city slips into the sea

danny in a dc tee getting stomped in the head on clement street
kids in the black boots
dad’s got the long hair, dad’s getting hired, getting fired
everybody wave
(me in the ambulance!)
mom’s got my pills in the paper bag, bills on the table
that was before they were really real people
and the punks grabbed my bike in the safeway parking lot
chased ’em for five blocks, never got it back

we were already fading, we just didn’t know it yet
holding onto the light of my perfection tucked into my arm like a lit blockbuster cassette
and f~ck yeah, i was hard for miss popular
been jocking her but she couldn’t see where i sat with binoculars
binacas stashed in my pocket, shot my good shot, then good lord, she blocked it
cherish the small tragedies
the big ones are smoking out in the bathroom
and i hear it for a moment when n0body sees them coming
an opening they can jump in make a total catastrophe
my family tried to hold it together
but now that we can’t hold it together
we’ll hold each other closer instead

danny in the deep blue sea getting wasted on the muni out to dp
kids with the tall cans
dad’s got the short hair, dad’s not retired quite yet
everybody wave me in the ambulance
mom’s plays guitar and she sings to us at night
that was before we were really real people
and the punks grabbed my bike in the safeway parking lot
chased them for five blocks, never got it back

little boxes on the hillside
there’s a blue one and a yellow one
and they all look just the same

- lirik lagu watsky

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