Slo Burn

Song: Slo Burn

Album: After What Came Before

Artist: The Blend

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released April 23, 2005

ref: 

Today, she doesn’t care to dress pale gray

and blush black.The weight made me exhale late,

so I stare in her face, and she cries cold raina

as the sun sinks deep into the big blue drink.

Her mood swings can move things, I’m not fooling.

I bet that your first guess is Julie

and it’s not, see I’m caught, vexed and spent

starin’ at the sidewalk with the Sunday stress.

Dumbfound with dumb thoughts of sex and death.

Wonder if I still exist in my ex’s head.

Even good close friends say The Blend is dead,

worthless, and I shouldn’t waste my breath.

Well go on kid, go and dance like all the rest,

don’t ask any questions,always be impressed,

invest in bright colors, embrace the night’s darkness starlit…

-

It’s a slo burn, livin’ this light like incandescent shine, slowly drippin’ in my eye

Sunset your work down, dress up and jump into this vile bright pool of everything and all that you want

Oh lord, we grab midnight by the throat

And swallow stars ‘til we’re comatosed and gone and lost and gone and lost and gone

Killin’ daylight, killin’ my daylight

Who killed my daylight, Stay awake love

Cos’ it’s a slo burn livin’ this light like California crimes, always runnin’ outta time

Ya’ got me bent, it’s short fused happiness bleedin’ shades of blue

-

It use to make sense like copper,

simple logic and orange clockwork-

sustained with what the day offered.

Now when I wake up I only recognize my boxers-

who’s this chick- who’s bed is this? I’ve long lost the posture

to stand out and get the hell off the

back saddle and prattle of the neon monster.

When night falls we drink shine and ride light bulbs

‘til we burn out or learn our life’s lost.

So, the sky cries cold rain while I wait on Ryan,

stare at the sidewalk and wonder where the time went.

I’ve given up my voice and sight just to find it

and only get a glimpse whenever I sit and write it.

I’m blinded, searchin’ for the sun in the dark

like poverty on a quest for change in Wicker Park.

Sparked, and can’t be stopped once it starts.

A sick wildfire seekin’ to kill the art.

-

It’s 5am while the city still sleeps.

The party’s passed out drugged up outta reach.

I watched you take your last hit and wait for sunset

to make sure that she still exists.

I smiled, closed my eyes, and held slumber up against my soul

to pay the late night toll,

and soon awoke to thunder from a storm she screamed

to see the life that your body let go.

So, when it hit 6am and the city still slept

like homeless wisdom on a bus stop bed,

I had to check ya’ pulse and feel a wind of regret-

caressed my cheek with ya’ last breath.

Now baby don’t you cry, and baby don’t you smile

cos’ happiness only happens when you walk that mile.

It can’t be posed in style or in a pipe compiled.

I wish I coulda wrote this before your last hour.

It’s passed now, gone along with those black clouds.

I guess ya can’t hold or slow down the fast route,

show someone the light when they’re cold and passed out

even though I tried and cried for this

-

Shine. Talk to me.

What’s your addiction? Remedy to your system?

Can you control the devil in your religion?

How high, must you get for you to feel ok?

Til it hurts good or numbs the pain?