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e m p t y p r o m i s e s

from u n k n o w n l o c a t i o n by d o u b t

/

lyrics

I think i found
A happy medium once.
Sparked another blunt, and lost it
Now i dont know what i want.

I sit in the front
Shotgun, with my shotgun.
Just in case a phantom
Mad dog me at the function.

I ain't frontin
These lyrics, they mean nothin'
I just kinda like to
Hear myself talk

Stream of conscious thought
Dick in an unconscious thot
Stream of conscious thought
...unconscious thought

*motto of the day, fuck a ho
let a bitch rot*

Theories fraught
With holes in the logic
Burned by my caustic
Flow spit chaotic.

A neurotic,
Robotic, product of modest parents.
Never losing hope
Even when their boy was wild’n out.

Pound for pound,
I never seen a brick of coke.
And they keys on my keyboard
Probably ain’t what you talkin’ ‘bout.

*fuck boi, just a minute,
you's a lame, i'm insane*

Its all a facade
Prescription glasses made of pyrex.
Keep my eyes peeled
So i can quickly spot a pretext.

Complex methods
I use to skew ethics.
The soul i lost,
Replaced by something synthetic.

Spread wide
Like the shot from a blunderbuss
Split personality
Two bottles of robo-tuss.

The mother fucking walrus
With a burner made of fairy dust.
Two tabs of acid
And a lot of empty promises.

credits

from u n k n o w n l o c a t i o n, released May 10, 2015
co produced by Gregory Litman-Navarro

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d o u b t image

d o u b t Long Beach

d o k n o w.
d x n t c a r e.

ギャング。
ギャング。
ギャング。

i m m o r t a l b o y s
w e n e v e r d i e

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