LORD LOONEY - Smoke & Shadows [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: LORD LOONEY]
Cause the weed took my best friend
Took a year, up to here 'til the mess end
It appear to do shit for depression
Yet the music a useful tool to invest in too
Rust stains on the razorblades
That's what they say to Mom when she raises a-
Eyebrow or two, when you hide in the gloom
All the blinds in the room are down, I assume
You gaze into space, and you plague in the pain
And you pray for the same thing: a day of amazement
A feeling of gain, still baked in the basement
Wonder where the fuck all the pain or the days went?
Gun pressed to the crest of my head
Maybe love will take effect when the restroom is red
And I never even rest when I rest in my bed
So it's best if I nest in the guestroom again
No pen, no hope-
It came to be...
Cause there ain't no cake in the 803
It's a lotta false face in the 803
It's a lotta bald hate in the 803
And I kinda lost faith in the 803
And I kinda stopped waiting on the 803
Got a mind to hock hate at the 803
Then I realize all this is fate
It's paved for me

[Hook: Anonymous Owls]
Love
Though it wrecks and amuses
It only comes true when it stems from the music
Hate
It dwells in my senses
Pencil me a check for a cell in the sane head
Pain
It grows from the hunger
Of fuckin' the game, chuckin' blame 'til the sun up
And love
Only know it exists
When a puddle comes up as it flows from your wrists
X2

[Verse 2: LORD LOONEY]
From a city where the music dips
Like the crews that'll usually do the shit
And if you ain't got a crucifix around your neck
Your kind loses; get crucified against
I don't call myself a Christian
I call myself a human
And life's a selfish mission
To question what we're doing
What if we never find the answers
And the whole thing is useless
I glide in panoramas
As I hope I soak in lupus...
The school kids' stupid, never stooped to 'em
Too busy movin' a pendulum induced rhythm
Get 'em son, Poppa dubbed-
Me upper to the popular
Soppin' up the rotten thoughts
And drop 'em in the prophet's cup-
Pretentious, never been the goal
A menace, been the cynical-
Ripper of the centerfold-
Since I felt the inner glow-
Dribble out as I grew up
Fiddle doubt as I threw up-
My middle finger, spittle out-
A riddle, bit 'em, killed the doubt
Appear a bit lost in the nonsense...
Ear to the conch, it's the sound of my conscience
Pounding at the launch pad, watch this-
Wonder where the cops at? Not missed
Suffice with a tendency to coward
And I never count stacks, but I'm stacking up a counteract
Fuck life, and everything about it
Shout that from the mountaintop ya'll surrounding at...

[Hook: Anonymous Owls]
(repeat)