Lemon - Swordplay

When I went off the deep end

I breathed in and then I fell asleep

Now I am often better off off beat

I’ve been handed the lemon in the rhythm of my life and I found it so sweet

I still got some of that pulp between my teeth

This is not a monotonous rhythm as much as a shout out to Magritte

I’m not a Van Gogh.

I’m not a Monet.

I’m not a Matisse

I’ve been practicing my dancing and drinking and been keeping on my feet

Because abstract thinking hasn’t helped me sleep

And this city grid and my steady pulse are both proof that I’m not dead

And it’s ringing bells inside of my head

Anything that I could have on my mind at the time has already been said

By the bad imagery of that algorithm instead:

Control.

Alt.

Delete.

I’ll be obsolete scenery

I’ll be obsolete scenery as soon as you want

Don’t mind me or anything you may have seen recently

Cos what you may have seen recently is not much

And I know recently I been teetering on the edge of linguistic tradition in the

dome

Drawing a paralanguage parallel to the bone

So farewell to the relics that I left back where I made my home

You go on make that lemonade on your own

I can’t help but ask myself, «what does this all mean to me?»

Or «what would this all mean to you?»

instead

This lemon looks a little bit like that old greenery

Like that old greenery that’s dead