название:

The Escapist


автор:

The Streets


жанры: british, rap, hip-hop
альбомы: Everything Is Borrowed
рейтинг: ★★★★★ / 5.2 / 1208 просмотров
All these walls were never really there
Nor the ceiling or the chair
I'm eking weeks at peace on a beach
I see the breezes weave the treesThese walls you'll find are yours and mine
Confined not by them I
I'm in times that lie behind my eyelids
The sunset still the rising silenceI'll not feel no fear 'cause I'm not really here
I'm nowhere nearThere's no rain on roof that grates and beats me
My favourite tree breaking light to pieces
Sprinkling, sharded, light on me
Throw a stone as high as you canAnd hearing with hand not hear it land
Nothing taxing,
Dusting sand
My window and world spins and twirls
The walls then fall, I recall this allWhite clouds, white wash, faded, spotless
The weighty shadows, ranges of rocks
The cold is all illusion thought up
A Stroll on the shore, snooze and exploreAll possibilities in each new morning
'Til satisfied reaching out, yawning
Fish in a big dish, some rice and spice
Salt over shoulder, never salted so dieThe truth I have told was silent sometimes
But whose soul does not hide any crimes?
Wrapped in walls, encircled by work
The walls fall, this story occursNo barrier, no boundary, all hours I please
The freedom to stay or stray
Be fiend or friend
Cause no harm but charm
The peaceful endI'll not feel no fear 'cause I'm not really here
I'm nowhere near
I'll not feel no fear 'cause I'm not really here
I'm nowhere nearPale ancient woods, strew white sandy bays
This ugly room pales away today
I'm swimming in the ocean,
I sink slow motion
Fingers, toes, floatingEvery year 'til yesterday
I see the eternal setting sea
I compare all this to me
Little fleeting, momentary meI blink my eyes, this is reminding me
Life flies in the blink of an eye
The old die for reasons, new tides four seasons
New life born is like teasingAll these walls were really never there
Nor the ceiling or the chair
I'm eking weeks at peace on a beach
I see the breezes weave the treesI'm not here at all, your dearly fool
I see bristling trees, the shush of the sea
The mischievous, fluttering seagulls
No, I'm not trapped in a box, I'm glancing at rocks
I'm dancing off docks,
Since this dance began
That's where I amI'll not feel no fear 'cause I'm not really here
I'm nowhere near
I'll not feel no fear 'cause I'm not really here
I'm nowhere nearSo done
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Это интересно:Автора, идеолога и единственного участника проекта The Streets зовут Майк Скиннер. Приехав в Лондон из затрапезного Бирмингема (местных жителей принято называть "брамми" за их замысловатый акцент; например название своего города они произносят как Браммиджем – отсюда и кличка), он взялся за дело с присущим большинству провинциалов рвением и оказался самым востребованным на сегодня... продолжение
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