Being a K-pop fan can be hard at times. Not understanding all the nuances and references can really lessen the impact of the music, thankfully Tablo of Epik High is on the scene. The star rapper has taken it upon himself to translate all the Korean lyrics into English for those that want to experience their new album “Shoebox,” in full. Even with Tablo’s amazing work, it’s important to keep in mind that some lyrics still may not make total sense when being translated and Tablo has done his best to make it coherent. Here is the translation for Shoebox.

All translations are thanks to Tablo, of Epik High.

Encore

Misfortune and fortune’s dizzying tango.
My life itself is poetry.
Breathing is enough to channel Rimbaud.
Struggle. I take it like a vacation.
Spent a season in hell but I only got a tan.
I’m good.
I smile for my dear mama.
As I’m the spitting image of my dad,
I fear that if I cry, she’ll see him crying.
And I smile for my dad.
So that my tears will never again break his heart.
So what if I can’t fly like I once did?
I survived it.
Rises and falls only gave me mileage, not stress.
The world said, “The show’s over.”
I turned a deaf ear to the cynicism and ridicule,
and I came through.
My enemies’ hate still burns, but it only fuels my art.
So fuck you and thank you.
Curtain call.
Arrows instead of roses at my feet, but I’ll never fall.
I didn’t realize that the show was over.
No, I didn’t realize that the show was over.
I didn’t realize that the show was over.
No, I didn’t realize that the show was over.
As time goes by,
I only let out sighs.
Quick to curse the heavens
and stomp my feet on the ground in regret,
Maybe that’s why
I neither flew nor walked.
As the days pass,
my vision walks in circles.
It’s all good.
Though my feet stand still, my heart is running.
I just have to run with it.
Before it stops altogether.
The fresh air I once breathed
up above the clouds
was when my parachute had already opened.
Those that watched and clapped
when the Fever rose
also took a third of my life.
I said, “Just wait and see, all of you.”
To those that thought we were dead,
and kicked us when we were down,
fuck you.
We back.
I didn’t realize that the show was over.
Don’t you tell me that it’s over.
No, I didn’t realize that the show was over.
Look at me now. You know that I’m here to stay.
I didn’t realize that the show was over.
Thank you. It was nice to know ya.
No, I didn’t realize that the show was over.
The show goes on.

Happen Ending

What is there to say?
I won’t beg for sympathy.
I hate playing the heart’s strings.
Always been stingy when it comes to happiness.
I’d rather we pay each other no mind.
Alcohol and people.
I binge and things never end pretty.
Quick to kill the vibe.
Just when I think I’d die for someone
I’d kill them out of spite.
Parting is murder anyway.
The way you bury a living person in your memory.
Cold blooded.
Don’t ask how I am.
All I want is a mirror to my apathy.
The whole world makes a fuss,
but love is nothing but a sanctified instinct.
Funny that what separates man from beast
turns a man into a beast.
It’s different this time,
I tell myself.
But without fail,
as always,
it ends.
Do we come together to love
or do we come together in order to break apart?
Again it’s come to greet me,
this happen ending.
Words spoken to a broken mirror.
If you were as clear as the drink you pour yourself
every time you kill yourself over a breakup,
there would at least be a hangover.
But you’re soon having another round.
Head over heels at first. Hot with desire.
When the fire is out, you sling shackles
on that person’s neck.
Always a different excuse for leaving.
And the victim is always you.
You gamble with love,
but that same love is someone’s life savings.
Then you get someone else to buy your lies,
having that next person pay your debts.
You have your reasons, whatever.
Please do the opposite of what your heart says.
You, no I, live such a lonely life.
Wish you the best.
I think it’s better this way.
You’re the same anyway.
Always the same ending.
Just another happening.
this happen ending.
Well, whatever.
It’s different this time,
I tell myself.
But without fail,
as always,
it ends.
Do we come together to love
or do we come together in order to break apart?
Again it’s come to greet me,
this happen ending.
Happy ending.
Happy,
no, happen
ending.
Hello and goodbye.
Two words
for the same thing.
Do we come together to love
or do we come together in order to break apart?
Again it’s come to greet me,
this happen ending.

Rich

She, who wanted to fly like a bird, bought a plane ticket.
He, who wanted the skies and the seas in the palm of
his hands, bought a large globe.
Everyone hangs a price tag on their dreams,
but no matter how much you spend,
your hearts are empty shopping carts.
You’ll max your credit cards to buy what you want,
but won’t max your dreams to live how you want to.
Looking for answers where your pocket is.
Baby, you don’t even know what the problem is.
Your bucket list is a shopping list.
But the life you miss leaves you with no memories.
But you’ve got plenty of pictures.
Better hungry than distasteful.
But your tastes are only trends.
Easy come and just as easily gone.
I wish. I wish. I wish. I was rich.
Baby I wish. I wish. I wish. I was rich.
My Drive Rules Everything Around Me.
Dream.
A friend of mine buys, sells,
and appraises her dreams and ideals.
Her account balance is off but her pride,
or so-called buydentity, is unshakeable.
No stamps in her passport
but her fashion treads New York and Paris.
Life is a photo shoot.
Every hood, campus, office, wherever.
Young boys on a rush for their golden ladies.
Yeah, I’m envious.
All I can be is envious.
I’m the loser.
I’m the loser.
I only dream on weekends,
lottery ticket gripped in hand every Saturday.
It’s Friday night, but I’m standing
in line with my lucky numbers.
When I was young, my dreams were a factory,
but now they are a dime-a-dozen convenience store.
I wish. I wish. I wish. I was rich.
Wanna live without worries.
Baby I wish. I wish. I wish. I was rich.
Wanna live like a human being.
As much as you earn,
as much as you burn,
is you happy?
As much as you earn,
as much as you burn,
are you happy?
‘Cause baby, I wish I was.
I wish. I wish I was rich.
Baby I wish. I wish I was rich.
Put your gold up in the air.
Put your diamonds in the air.
And wave ‘em like you just don’t
care.

‘Cause baby, I wish I was.
I wish. I wish. I wish. I was rich.
Baby I wish. I wish. I wish. I was rich.
My Drive Rules Everything Around Me.
‘Cause baby, I wish I was.
‘Cause baby, I wish I was.
Rich, rich, rich. Yeah.
‘Cause baby, I wish I was.
‘Cause baby, I wish I was.
Rich.
I’d like to be rich in heart,
but my heart is just as empty as my wallet.
‘Cause baby, I wish I was.
‘Cause baby, I wish I was.
Rich, rich, rich. Yeah.
‘Cause baby, I wish I was.
‘Cause baby, I wish I was

Spoiler

Your distant stares and your words are spoilers.
I see the end in every little thing you do.
I try to ignore them, but I can feel these spoilers.
Should I sit through it all? Or should I leave now?
There might be a plot twist.
What are you thinking?
I ask twice, and you face me.
Again, you offer an answer that isn’t an answer.
Looks like it’ll rain tomorrow.
Then you look back out the window.
These days, I see the side of your face often.
You let out a sigh, and silence floods me.
Delusions I should not dive into.
I know.
My intuition is dangerous.
One step in and I’ll be caught in the undertow.
My sensitivity is deep waters.
I know why those seemingly
meaningless sighs are becoming frequent.
A departing heart empties its home one sigh at a time.
It seems
you’re busier than before.
Days pass without a call,
and our conversations are lifeless.
And those words you write and erase.
Foreshadowing.
Maybe it’s coincidence,
but every time I look at a clock,
its hands are facing in opposite directions.
They’re showing us what lies ahead.
It’s all cliche.
I’ve seen scenes like this hundreds of times,
but my heart stops.
Have we become too busy
to remember our many promises?
Or are we already busy forgetting them?
Your distant stares and your words are spoilers.
I see the end in every little thing you do.
I try to ignore them, but I can feel these spoilers.
Should I sit through it all? Or should I leave now?
There might be a plot twist.
I can’t let you go.
I can hear them loud and clear,
the things you don’t say.
You try to act normal but I know.
This damn hunch is choking me.
Maybe I’ve been holding you captive
in my stupid fantasies.
Maybe you’ve been playing a part
that doesn’t suit you.
Even when, out of habit, you say you love me,
your mind is elsewhere.
Words and expressions are out of sync.
Displaced subtitles.
Maybe this is my deserved punishment
for wanting to love like the movies.
I finally ask where your heart is at,
and all I get is an open ending.
Yes, our love was twist upon twist

a series of hair-raising scenes.
But even the flames of that hell was better than
this burnt out purgatory.
I see the end.
Can’t turn off the projector in my mind.
Only when I drink myself
out of frame can I breathe.
Just cut me out or kill me out.
Forget a happy ending.
Don’t let me fade… out.
Your distant stares and your words are spoilers.
I see the end in every little thing you do.
I try to ignore them, but I can feel these spoilers.
Should I sit through it all? Or should I leave now?
There might be a plot twist.
I can’t let you go.
Maybe you and I were living a charade
with a predetermined ending.
Maybe you and I, since our first scene,
were marching towards the end.
This is our last parade.
Your distant stares and your words are spoilers.
I see the end in every little thing you do.
I try to ignore them, but I can feel these spoilers.
Should I sit through it all? Or should I leave now?
There might be a plot twist.
I can’t let you go.
I see the end, but baby don’t let’s go.
Even if it’s one last scene, don’t wanna miss it,
so I can’t let go.
I can’t let you go.
I see the end, but baby don’t let’s go.
Even if it’s one last scene, don’t wanna miss it,
so I can’t let go.
The End?

Burj Khalifa

Call the cops.
I’m cocaine to the ears.
No wonder they call me ‘Blo’.
Got you scrunching your nose, emotions, and brain.
Cobain. Blowin’ up.
Another legend baby.
Even when I’m birthing your high, I’m a caring daddy.
Like Lennon, Kennedy, and Coltrane’s pops,
I make legendary j’s.
Say no, no, no to drugs.
Earphones over needles.
Got celebs lining up like my music is propofol.
10 years I’ve been on top of your heads
makin’ a ruckus.
No soundproofing.
My voice breaks through generational walls.
Forget sales charts, my name belongs on medical charts.
Been dancin’ with death in flames hotter than anything
on the Billboard Hot 100.
Man, I OD’d.
Fever’s End was an overdose of despair, and this is rehab.
Bring a police officer, a fireman, a priest and an exorcist
’cause I’m back.
Fuck competition.
My high?
Puff puff, no passing.
I’m born fly. I don’t rock crazy shit.
A hospital gown and an IV drip. I rock crazy, shit.
I’m sick. Ill. Dope.
Like the combination of a vic pill,
coke, molly, novocain, son.
This is Epik ‘High’.
Music on drugs.
Recognize.
Burj
Khalifa.
Khalifa.
Khalifa.
The sky is beneath my feet
I’m here to get you high again
Wussup?
Up in the sky, man I’m feelin’ so high.
Wussup?
This high is never comin’ down.
Wussup?
Up in the sky, man I’m feelin’ so high.
Wussup?
OK
Guess who’s back?
King.
El Chapo. But legal this time.
How to get everyone fucked up? I know.
Boss of drug rap. Change my name.
Psycho Yankie, a.k.a. Andre, yeah that’s my name.
Imported. Shit that’ll slap your face. Get you gone.
Let’s play.
South America flavor.
Bolivia and Peru’s got nuthin’ on me.
Output, output, output. Mad supply.
Yeah, the epitome of drug rap.
A hunnit percent pure new shit.
Music cooked with my rhythm.

Highly concentrated flow,
class triple A+ marbling bling.
Who wants beef?
Grab an ounce of my voice.
That damn nice guy rap, enough is enough.
Yo you got some of my raps on your nose.
This feels so fresh and so clean.
Shepherd. Labrador. Biaaatch, Nose pinch.
All the hotties of this land are yours.
Mixed in some aphrodisiacs.
No joke. My clients are Haru and Rhythm’s daddies.
Welsh Corgi genes. Superior. The effect is immediate.
Rock, electronic, jazz, dance music.
Whatever you mix me, the result is hip hop.
Wussup?
Up in the sky, man I’m feelin’ so high.
Wussup?
This high is never comin’ down.
Wussup?
Up in the sky, man I’m feelin’ so high.
Wussup?
My High is Epik.
I’m fucked up right now.
My brain doesn’t even recognize my parents.
The jealous and their claims that I’m the reason
for their failure are crampin’ this Gangnam kid’s style.
They take shots at my pockets, asking me to
hand over the keys.
Don’t blame it on me.
Stop this meaningless uprising.
This riot needs to fuck off.
Tumors in your common sense.
Your impure motives had me upset for awhile.
What do you care who’s side I’m on?
Take your politics to the parliament.
I’ll take you on. Me against the world.
Piss me off and y’all die…
nah that’s just me frontin’.
I wish my fans and my haters well.
Go, go, come, come.
If you don’t know, learn.
If you see me as you pass,
come get an autograph.
Get out your phone
and take a picture.
Smile, one two three. Snap.
Relief. Relief. Stress relief.
Like a streaker, fuck it all.
Me talkin’ my bullshit is just as elegant as your truth.
Boy, you lay low.
My rap is a bolito.
Wussup?
Up in the sky, man I’m feelin’ so high.
Wussup?
This high is never comin’ down.
Wussup?
Up in the sky, man I’m feelin’ so high.
Wussup?
My High is Epik.

We Fight Ourselves

Who said love is sweet?
We always go sour.
Every second, minute, every damn hour.
It’s a losing game even when you win.
Don’t wanna play.
We avoid each other’s eyes but are
in a constant staring contest.
Even when I give in and let you win, you scoff.
“Do you even know what you did wrong?”
I’m used to it.
Anything other than your faults are crimes.
You use my greater sins to maintain
that lonely innocence.
The more I say stop, the more you do it.
We try to understand each other
but always end up standing under each other.
Oh no. Not again.
I can’t fall asleep, leaving things the way they are.
Oh no. Not again.
Winning is losing, but we rush to the finish line.
We always fight.
It’s when you call me crazy,
and say that you’re sick of me,
and say that you’ve had it,
that you’re you.
That’s you.
We always fight.
It’s when you tell me to stop,
and say that you’re dying inside,
and look broken when once you didn’t,
that you’re you.
That’s me and you.
I’m sorry.
Constant dissonance.
One thing goes wrong and
you already tear up the score.
And when we fight over things long past,
you attach a repeat mark to only my mistakes.
Questions and inquisitions.
You force me to the wall like everything’s my fault.
Setting fire to my reason like a witch hunt.
I get angry and scream.
You use your tears as a weapon
to stab my conscience.
We can’t bear a thing. Fights, responsibilities,
and each other’s baggage.
I throw my phone and punch the wall,
marking another period.
Oh no. Not again.
I can’t fall asleep, leaving things the way they are.
Oh no. Not again.
Winning is losing, but we rush to the finish line.
We always fight.
It’s when you call me crazy,
and say that you’re sick of me,
and say that you’ve had it,
that you’re you.
That is you.

We always fight.
It’s when you tell me to stop,
and say that you’re dying inside,
and look broken when once you didn’t,
that you’re you.
This is.
That is me and you.
Stop.
Stop stop stop.
It’s my fault.
Stop.
Stop stop stop.
It’s my fault.
We always fight.
It’s when you call me crazy,
and say that you’re sick of me,
and say that you’ve had it,
that you’re you.
That is you.
We always fight.
It’s when you tell me to stop,
and say that you’re dying inside,
and look broken when once you didn’t,
that you’re you.
Uh oh.
It’s when you call me crazy,
and say that you’re sick of me,
and say that you’ve had it,
that you’re you.
Uh oh.
We fight ourselves.
Uh oh.
It’s when you tell me to stop,
and say that you’re dying inside,
and look broken when once you didn’t,
that you’re you.
Uh oh.
We fight ourselves.
I’m sorry.

Amor Fati

God doesn’t love me.
I’ve got some anger to burn.
Forget a confession.
Just pass me the ashtray.
Inhale, exhale.
Curses precede the smoke.
If I dirty my body and my mouth,
hell maybe I’ll think of you.
You’re my sleeping pills, my caffeine.
My virus, my vaccine.
My bible, my dirty magazine under the bed.
I’m in trouble.
We’re two perfectly matching pieces, just different puzzles.
The things that an unholy world considers holy.
No, they cannot change me.
Nothing can save me.
You try to run away,
run away from the world.
But then you run away,
run away from yourself
and you don’t know the way home.
I believe in myself.
I believe in this moment before my eyes.
I believe in this shot glass.
But they call me a non-believer.
You try to run away,
run away from the world.
But then you run away,
run away from yourself
and you don’t know the way home.
I believe in myself.
I believe in this sweat on my hands.
I believe my heart.
I believe in love.
But they call me a non-believer.
Selling me drugs?
Selling me answers is the greater evil.
Answers that fish out my fear,
my ignorance and discontent.
A lucrative business that slices them up
and sells them back to me.
A raw deal.
Fate, a calling, destiny.
Salvation seasoned with dead ideas,
making you kick over the starving present’s table
in favor of a piece of the unknowable future.
The root of all diseases.
It’s hell’s kitchen.
People gather at each’s favorite spot,
under each’s blood red store sign.
Claiming ‘flagship’, asserting superiority of taste.
When they’re all selling the same poison.
The most dangerous thing is a gluttonous idea.
One serving of an answer can make table legs give out.
They drool until they can no longer hold a spoon.
Blind faith, indigestion that vomits hate.
You try to run away,
run away from the world.
But then you run away,
run away from yourself
and you don’t know the way home.
I believe in myself.

I believe in this moment before my eyes.
I believe in this shot glass.
But they call me a non-believer.
You try to run away,
run away from the world.
But then you run away,
run away from yourself
and you don’t know the way home.
I believe in myself.
I believe in this sweat on my hands.
I believe my heart.
I believe in love.
But they call me a non-believer.
There’s no way home.
Do you break my legs only to give me crutches?
Do you feed me a poisoned apple when I’m starving?
Do you make me hold guns
and knives instead of another’s hand?
Are you truly pure?
Why do you break my wings and make me crawl?
Why do you belittle and shun me?
Is it okay to throw stones if you’re without sin?
Isn’t stoning a sin?
Oh God.
He doesn’t love me.
I know He doesn’t love me.
Well, neither do I.
Neither do I.
We are others.
We are the others.

Born Hater

I’m a born hater.
Dali, Van, Picasso?
I’m Velasquez, Millet, El fuckin’ Greco.
My echoes.
VJ his sensitive shit?
All cheap versions of Blo.
Imitators, pupils, shieeet.
See, the usual me
will look at people I have absolutely no problem with
and be like, “Fuck ‘em.”
So I understand why y’all attack me.
Why you act tough
and why you act like a bitch.
Go ahead and drop your pants, be the dicks that y’all are.
Tajinyo, go ahead and crawl up too,
I’m tryin’ to love ya.
It’s only fitting.
My life is a paradox.
I’m the guy that fell, loosening my own figure-eight knot
to create an infinity symbol.
It’s useless inferiority,
trying to tail me. It’ll be your loss.
You should’ve kept your distance.
The crash that comes is your fault.
I thought I told ya.
I’m two steps ahead.
I’m monogamous in everything I do.
The one and only motherfucker here.
I hate my haters, obviously.
Times like this, I envy E Sens,
’cause he’s got no haters.
Funny how they say my success came from my looks.
When Tablo, who y’all idolize,
is in the room next to me.
So shut the fuck up.
But y’all won’t let up with the gossipin’.
Man I’m everywhere, like oxygen.
Sorry but even your ex is my fangirl.
Stop talkin’ shit like you know the shit.
I don’t need y’all feedback, seriously.
Why do I need to talk music with you?
All you’ve done for me is point your cursors at me.
Man, fuck you,
Nah, fuck your ID,
Nah, fuck your IP, man I’m sick of y’all geeks.
Y’all came come up here. This is your dream up here.
My vehicle’s foreign, and my bitch is modelin’.
Some of y’all are born haters.
Dispersed in every social circle.
Regardless of what I do, you react
with an innate shallowness.
It may be painful truth, but it is in your nature.
Type one.
Those whose careers I ended
and this scene’s acquaintances.
The most obvious characteristic is
the boring, long shit you write about the industry,
acting hard and boasting expertise all the while.
Type two.
You look for a scapegoat
for your unfortunate life.
And it happens to be me.
It’s cute and pitiful.
But when the law confronts you, your plans dissipate.
The remainder types are like mosquitoes.
The cleaner the air, the meaner the bite.
I’d like to let you live but I’m left with no choice.
‘Cause you irritate me.
Wow.
Look here.
Cowards get to runnin’.
No doubt.
You watchin’?
If you can’t stand it, do it like I do it.
Hide.
I can see the tip of your heads.
Don’t overstep your bounds.
We on another level.

Here, it’s muthafuckin’ do or die.
My rap sounds like shit on every beat,
like my mind is sick, and it’s been worse
in the recent years.
Overusing rhymes that have nothing to do
with the message,
and spitting soft ass raps.
My friends are already flowing like rap giants,
but I’m oil to their water.
When you rank starting not from the best
but from the worst,
I’m always in the Top 10.
I hear it all, you’re ridicule.
But I’ve built up a tolerance and become more lethal.
I’ve been through life and death,
and it’s only made my mind stronger.
Insults have pushed me into a state of nirvana.
In this line of work, there comes a period
when you’ll see blood.
Already at my throat
but I’ll never bat an eye.
Even though I’m wack, amongst you bitches,
I’m still the man.
If you see me in ’18,
you won’t be able to say what you say now.
Guaranteed success.
Losers who say I just have a good label,
y’all can talk shit
but I forget easy like a goldfish.
Fuck ‘em.
I left Block B, debuted with some soft shit, fucked up.
But now I’m here with my skills,
from the bottom now I’m turnt up.
But you still don’t know the monster behind the concept.
It’s good to get it off my chest.
MINO. Huge boy. Yeah, I’m that dog.
Tell me to put out a paw, I’ll slap your face.
I’m a beast riding the beat. This is bestiality.
You try to cut me down, it’s just a clean shave.
I’m cool as hell, but you want the heat?
Then I’ll give it to you. Take it.
Before you talk trash, go look in a mirror.
When you see me on TV, be my guest and turn it off.
They say I’ve changed, behind my back.
Whatever, I wanted to.
From the bottom to a champion.
To your incessant feedback,
no nods, ’cause I only nod to beats.
Old-fashioned mentality,
saying the experience is king
and the elders are the shit, boy.
Is time a fund?
I’ll bankrupt you, boy.
Call out the elders, even your bosses.
The bigger my head gets, the smaller your hearts get.
So easy to kill it in hip hop, right?
In your twenties but your emotions are childish.
E’ybody sound the same.
Commercialize the game and she’s dead.
It’s show time.
Does me talkin’ the truth seem disrepectful?
If my words piss you off, diss Bobby right now.
When I grab the mic, I’m Thriller to the audience.
When you grab the mic,
even pigeons won’t stay at your side.
Wow.
Look here.
Cowards get to runnin’.
No doubt.
You watchin’?
If you can’t stand it, do it like I do it.
Hide.
I can see the tip of your heads.
Don’t overstep your bounds.
We on another level.
Here, it’s muthafuckin’ do or die.
Yo
Watch how far I go.
At home on your TV, stupid.
Yo
Whatever I do
I’m superior to you sitting ducks, stupid.
On stage, the same old robots are prancing around.
I’m gonna say one thing. That’s no no.
These haters talk shit even when we give to charity.
I’m gonna say one thing. That’s no no.

Lesson 5

One man’s faith.
One man’s epidemic, bullshit.
One man’s freedom.
One man’s wall and prison.
One man’s patriotism is another’s terrorism.
The mechanism of a full-bellied solution
that only breeds problems.
A demon
in your computer, phone and TV.
Bite-sized truth on sale, everywhere you look.
It’s easy.
One bite and a wick germinates.
A tiny spark of discontent sets self-righteousness ablaze.
Justifies all crimes.
Self-defence, murder, whatever.
Never guilty.
A mind that craves right and wrong creates a divide
and incites
until gray becomes black and white, charcoal and ashes.
Everyone is blind in the dark.
He who was blind to begin with is king.
Even poison is a stream of water to a thirsty world.
Knowledge that sickens.
“I know.”
We got no answers
we got no answers
we got no answers
we got no answers
we got no answers
we got no answers
my timeline’s blowin’ up today
We got no answers
we got no answers
we got no answers
we got no answers
we got no answers
we got no answers
class is in session
One man’s poetry is one man’s indecent moan.
One man’s weakness is one man’s journalism.
One man’s sincerity is another’s blasphemy, treason.
Full-bellied McCarthyism that only breeds apathy.
A demon.
Lord have mercy.
Computer, phone and TV,
tightrope walking on public opinion.
Idols bite their tongue and there are no saviours.
Shut up and you get rich,
say what needs to be said and you get punished.
Superficiality is sanctified.
Truth is pretention. Sincerity is pretense.
Popular sentiment has become right and wrong,
dividing and inciting
until gray becomes black and white,
charcoal and ashes.
If the whole world holds its tongue,
he who was deaf to begin with is king.
Give a thirsty world a drop of blood

and it will stop clicking its tongue to get a taste.
“I’ll take a glass as well.”
Shut up.
Those complicated words.
Thoughts that can’t help me.
Shit is crazy.
My head hurts.
Those serious words.
Thoughts that make me no money.
Fuck you pay me.
We got no answers
we got no answers
we got no answers
we got no answers
we got no answers
we got no answers
Just a lot of questions.

Life is Good

No mercy, no remorse.
The disgusting mob that kicked me down
and conspired to end my life.
I’m above their heads.
Victory toast.
Like a boss.
Success is revenge.
Happiness that is held deeper than
a grudge is the sweetest revenge.
My family’s laughter
is more delightful
than the tears of my enemies.
I know you wanna see me fall.
Sorry, I’m good.
I know you want me to keep my head down.
Sorry, I’m good.
Yeah baby I
I feel so good
No matter what
I’m always on my grind
and I’m doin’ good.
Even if you pray for my misfortune,
and want me to bite the dust,
I’m gonna be fine.
My life is good.
Life is
so good so good so good so good so good.
So good.
Life is
so good so good so good so good so good.
So good.
Once my life was callin’ out mayday,
but music saved me.
I was at death’s door
but I was rewarded time.
Every breathing moment is payday.
I’ve been there so I understand.
Compared to your burning passion,
the world is cold.
Drink up tonight.
Reality is ugly
but life is beautiful.
I know you wanna see me fall.
Sorry, I’m good.
I know you want me to keep my head down.
Sorry, I’m good.
Yeah baby I
I feel so good
No matter what
I’m always on my grind
and I’m doin’ good.
Even if you pray for my misfortune,
and want me to bite the dust,
I’m gon be fine.
My life is good.
Life is
so good so good so good so good so good.
So good.
Life is
so good so good so good so good so good.
So good.

Eyes Nose Lips

You left me paralyzed.
No cure. No rehab for me.
Funny that you got the nerve
to keep askin’ me how I’ve been.
You’re the victor in this pageantry.
But the only trophy you deserve… catastrophe.
I’d rather we be dead to each other.
No eulogies said for each other.
No rest in peace’s.
The memory’s got my chest in pieces.
I’m prayin’ that your eyes are the first to go.
The way they looked when you smiled.
The way they opened and closed.
Then your nose.
Every single breath against my neck.
And then your lips.
Every empty promise made and said.
Please fade.
Fade to black.
Please fade.
Fade to black.
But the nightmares come back.
Because your eyes, nose, lips—every look and every breath,
every kiss—still got me dyin’.
You still got me cryin’.
Because your eyes, nose,
lips—every look and every breath,
every kiss—still got me dyin’.
You still got me cryin’.
Fuck a promenade.
Let’s juggernaut down memory lane.
Leave no thought alive.
To the slaughterhouse I’m takin’ my pain.
It’s time to sever my brain from my heart and soul.
My knees are burnin’ hot
but God is cold.
I’ve been told
One day you’ll know, too much of heaven’s a sin.
After the show, it’s only hell that it brings.
So take it slow and let time heal everything.
They say that time flies
but you keep breakin’ its wings.
You’ll never fade.
Fade to black.
Please fade.
Fade to black.
But the nightmares come back.
Because your eyes, nose, lips—every look
and every breath,
every kiss—still got me dyin’.
You still got me cryin’.
Because your eyes, nose, lips—every look
and every breath,
every kiss—still got me dyin’.
You still got me cryin’.
You wish me well.
You wish me well.
I wish you hell.
I never wanna look into your eyes again.
No, I never wanna hear you breathe again.
Let me go.
Let me go.
Baby, tell me this is the end.
Because your eyes, nose, lips—every look
and every breath, every kiss—still got me dyin’.
You still got me cryin’.
Because your eyes, nose, lips—every look
and every breath, every kiss—still got me dyin’.
You still got me cryin’.
G’night.

Shoebox

It’s gonna be a late night.
But baby I’m comin’ home.
It’s gonna be a late night.
But baby I’m comin’ home.
It’s gonna be a late night.
But baby I’m comin’ home.
Yeah it’s gonna be a late night.
Good night.
Will I be all right?
If I keep running like this
I’ll run out of breath.
At long last, when morning opens it’s eyes
and my dizzying life comes to a pause…
Babe, I’m comin’ home.
Just wait, I’ll be at your door soon.
You won’t ever be alone.
If I’m late, I’ll be lying at your side when you wake up.
The first and last train, there is nothing in between.
Work is a treadmill. Walking in circles.
I sweat 365 days for you.
You know. How could I possible idle a day away.
I’m comin’ home.
I may be late,
but the time that passes on my way home,
that silence, is the only
perfect peace in this world.
Never ‘home’ without you.
All alone without you.
Baby, I’m on my way home.
Babe, I’m comin’ home.
Just wait, I’ll be at your door soon.
You won’t ever be alone.
If I’m late, I’ll be lying at your side when you wake up.
Baby, I’m comin’ home.
Just wait, I’ll be at your door soon.
You won’t ever be alone.
If I’m late, I’ll be lying at your side when you wake up.
Baby, I’m on my way home.
On my way back home.
Uphill and downhill.
Time to take off our old shoes.
Footprints and the beaten paths.
We leave here in shoeboxes.

Photo Cred: Ricky Leong

Source: Icaruswalks