笨小笨Tiny Glowing Screens， Pt. 2 (Explicit)歌词由Watsky演唱，出自专辑《Cardboard Castles (Explicit)》，下面是《Tiny Glowing Screens， Pt. 2 (Explicit)》完整版歌词！
Tiny Glowing Screens， Pt. 2 (Explicit)歌词完整版
Tiny Glowing Screens, Pt. 2 (Explicit) - Watsky
There’s 7 billion 46 million people on the planet
And most of us have the audacity to think we matter
Hey you hear the one about the comedian who croaked
Someone stabbed him in the heart just a little poke
But he keeled over ‘cause he went into battle
Wearing chain mail made of jokes
Hey you hear the one about the screenwriter
Who passed away
He was giving elevator pitches
And the elevator got stuck halfway
He ended up eating smushed sandwiches
They pushed through a crack in the door
And repeating the same crappy
Screenplay idea about talking dogs 'til his last day
Hey you hear the one about the fisherman who passed
He didn’t jump off that ledge
He just stepped out into the air
And pulled the ground up towards him really fast
Like he was pitching a line and went fishing for concrete
The earth is a drum and he’s hitting it on beat
The reason there’s smog in Los Angeles is ‘cause
If we could see the stars
If we could see the context of the universe in which we exist
And we could see how small each one of us is
Against the vastness of what we don’t know
No one would ever audition for a McDonalds commercial again
And then where would we be
No frozen dinners and no TV
And is that a world we want to text in
Either someone just microwaved popcorn
Or I hear the sound of a thousand
People pulling their heads
Out of their asses in rapid succession
The people are hunched over in Boston
They’re starting app stores
And screen printing companies in San Francisco
They’re grinning in Los Angeles like
They’ve got fishhooks in the corners of their mouth
But don’t paint me like the good guy
‘cause every time I write
I get to choose the angle
That you view me and select the nicest light
You wouldn’t respect me
If you heard the typewriter chatter tap tap
Tapping through my mind at night
The same stupid tape loop of old sitcom dialogue
And tattered memories of a girl
I got to grind on in high school
Filed carefully on rice paper
My heart is a colored pencil
But my brain is an eraser
I don’t want a real girl
I want to trace her from a catalogue
Truth be told I’m unlikely to hold you down
Cause my soul is a crowded subway train
And people keep deciding to get on the next one
That rolls through town
I’m joining a false movement in San Francisco
I’m frowning and hunched over in Boston
I’m smiling in Los Angeles like
I’ve got fishhooks in the corners of my mouth
And I’m celebrating on weekends
Because there are 7 billion 47 million people on the planet
And I have the audacity to think I matter
I know it’s a lie but I prefer it to the alternative
Because I’ve got a tourniquet tied
At my elbow / I’ve got
A blunt wrap filled with compliments and I’m burnin it
You say to go to sleep
But I been bouncing off my bedroom walls since
I was hecka small
We’re every age at once
And tucked inside ourselves like Russian nesting dolls
My mother is an 8 year old girl
My grandson is a 74 year old retiree whose kidneys just failed
And that’s the glue between me and you
That’s the screws and nails
We live in a house made of each other
And if that sounds strange that’s because it is
Someone please freeze time
So I can run around turning everyone’s pockets inside out
And remember you didn’t see sh*t
