Control

Song: Control

Album: Losing The Game

Artist: The Blend

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 8, 2008

ref: 

Crazy games we play

Crazy things we say

we fight for control

whether it’s right or wrong

The truth is not enough

The truth is not enough

Happiness

was it asking too much

So why settle for the ride like the nearest pedals on a stolen bike

to getaway

Growin’ feathers that were never meant to fly, and strugglin’ to remember why

ya’ came, all this way

Fallen to the simple resolution:

this is everything you’re not,

but everything you want.

So you hold on,

just

to let it go.

Ya run around, run around, run around

Burnin’ out, burnin’ out, burnin’ out

Ya run around, run around, run around

Burnin’ out, burnin’ out, burnin’ out

On a sinkin’ ship, drownin’ in the now

Reachin’ for the sky underneath the ground

Holdin’ on to the ceiling

People screamin, “Teach me how”.

Am I just another drunk phone call

you regret when the mornin comes

Is what it is, who I’m supposed to be

Is what it was, where I’m supposed to leave

Ya use words like “love” and “forever”

to heal the hearts ya severed

I bet ya friends call ya “clever”

I call you “never”.

Ridin’ on a horse that’s always runnin’ late,

but you insist that it’ll be on-time someday,

chasin’ yesterday.

Is it the question or the answer that you’re not willin’ to stop,

and figure out where the hell you’re goin’

far as almost

Fallen to the simple resolution:

This is everything you’re not,

but everything you want.

So ya’ hold on,

just

to let it go

Ya run around, run around, run around

Burnin’ out, burnin’ out, burnin’ out

Ya run around, run around, run around

Burnin’ out, burnin’ out, burnin’ out

Ya run around, run around, run around

Burnin’ out, burnin’ out, burnin’ out

Ya run around, run around, run around

Burnin’ out, burnin’ out, burnin’ out

Crazy games we play

Crazy things we say

I know why I’m alive, for sure,

but what are we

fighting for.

Anarchy's For Lovers

Song: Anarchy's For Lovers

Album: Losing The Game

Artist: The Blend

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 8, 2008

ref: 

Prequel

I rolled up on Algoma

and said alright now, I’m just gonna have one drink.

I rolled up on Algoma

and said alright now, I’m just gonna have one drink.

Next thing I know,

I woke up with my boxers gone and my pants on,

and I didn’t know what the hell to think.

Anarchy’s for Lovers

Aside the fact your ex-boyfriend’s got a new tool,

your twenty-somethin’ spirit’s screamin’ screw school.

Just a lose-lose hand, whistlin’ confused blues

wishin’ the rules would leave some room to move.

Grab a paddle or learn to swim and grow some gills.

The water’s fine when you can float by keepin’ still.

If ya drown, there ain’t a lifeguard to stress it-

can always hear a few freshmen yellin

-

Chorus

She says she loves me,

She loves me not,

She says she loves me,

She loves me not

She says she loves me

She says she loves me

She says she loves me

I said I love you too, but nothin’ like hip-hop

-

She steps on necks with high heels,

won’t settle for anything less than ideal,

a dragon in a land of wood swords and light shields,

flies with the fire on reserve and eyes that hold time still.

Unimpressed or convinced by any mirror

held to this campus of Lady M’s and King Leers,

desperate belles casting endless spells

of fashionable personalities to defend the shell.

Tryin’ to think clear, save water, drink beer

hittin’ curves with the clutch caught up in fifth gear.

I sit here on a smudged line between this queen

and the so called social elite that won’t compete

in any match for the title or the rights-to,

or maybe it’s just too easy for me to shed light to

another urban night, swimming in suburban hype

For a kid that never wanted anything but words to write.

She’s on her way to find the next shoes to step.

They keep 80proof textin’.

I hold the method and run the school like the New X-Men,

and can still hear more than a few freshmen yellin’.

-

Chorus

I said  love you too until my heart stops

Heart beatin’ like a jumper, Anarchy’s for Lovers

real love is for those that’ve hardly seen summer.

Either target or cover, Anarchy’s for Lovers

real love is for those that’ve hardly seen summer.

Impartial to slumber, Anarchy’s for Lovers

real love is for those that’ve hardly seen summer.

-

Sometimes, sometimes, she gets tired of rappin’,

stares at me funny like the last-man dancin’

up a storm, as if he never got drunk before,

Makin’ out with the wall, huggin’ the floor.

She said “Doo-wop and I’ll get the bill”.

I told her “I can make it cook like tremendous twelves.”

She said, “Yeah right.” I told her, “Tip well.”

Cos I can ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch

Change it up like tempers often do

Pushin’ walls until they move

And fight in spite of love to prove and pride to lose.

Now if you wanna paint it gray, then girl go ‘head

Don’t mind me if I join in

Can’t resist or avoid it

Tell me what’s the

Hold-up, Hold-up

Hold-up, Hold-up

Vanity’s here to stay

Do I give addiction a name?

Yes I do, Yes I do

Yes I do, Yes I do

If it’s fine with you, then find a fool

See mama didn’t raise no tool

In fact she gave birth to the cool

Go’on ask yaself

If it’s love and happiness,

Or is it truth and who you’re happy with

The Bandit

Song: The Bandit

Album: Losing The Game

Artist: The Blend

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 8, 2008

ref: 

Prequel

Ya say ya wanna change

the clouds to white from gray.

Dissolve the storms to sunshine,

the light of day.

Conduct directions of the wind

and temperatures like May,

turnover the overtures of time

and sing’em through the rain

It’s the same

page,

different book

same page, different book

What is this, another dirty dish in the kitchen

I keep washin’ but the dirt is never finished.

The sink and faucet are the only evidence of fruition.

I swipe the time card and keep wishin’.

It lasts a flash, alone a sweet instance,

superfluous, golden, magnificent moment,

that slips away, twists in the drain,

and it never comes back, but I’ma still sit and wait.

My mind drifts like a ghost,

the past is in my system like a virus without a host.

Sex, drugs, relationships, and faith-

could turn a mile and a mountain, to an inch and a grain,

burn a smile down to fits of rage,

word it out ‘til it rips the page.

Anyways, bring your seven mile stare

and a clever smile to wear,

and we’ll get apathetic ‘til we care.

Same page

Different book

Same

page

Different

Book

Wait, wait

listen

look

wait

wait

The Bandit

Must be why we feel old when we’re young

the same reason why we feel in control when we’re drunk,

admirin’ stars that can’t glow in the sun,

held to a crowd that left us alone on the run.

I’m not much for what’s meant to be

when folks can hold on to guns and let go of everything.

I’m disengaged with all but this page

like headphones in lecture hall bumpin’ Purple Haze.

Curtain’s raised and I still got the fight in me.

2009, nothing surprises me.

I’m stretchin’ fate far as you can set the date.

I’ll be damned if I’m getting’ played like Kiss Me Kate.

Rewritin’ the script is a piece’a wedding cake

spectatin’ the campus pressing fakes in a desperate state,

watchin’ lovers, that’ve only seen summer,

wander into that false sense of comfort,

disputes turn into fist feuds,

drugs to dirstribute, classes to sit through,

a never ending agenda we’re pinned to,

and next week’s feeling like a island too far to swim to.

I’d like to think tomorrow hasn’t been written yet

and gets determined by what we’re givin’ it.

But then you have to ask, watching another day collapse

and crash into the past, “is this it?”

-

Pre Chorus

Close as it gets, close as a kiss,

Any closer than this we might stick

Close as it gets, close as a kiss

Any closer than this we might stick

Chorus

I’m runnin’ outta rage

Comin down from up.

If you can count your days,

your time has long been done.

If ain’t nobody gonna fix this,

then I will.

And if you don’t know by now,

then I do.

-

Nice days only last ‘til the light fades

and it’s not long ‘til everybody’s jumpin’ on the night train.

I take flight late, avoid the pipe drain’s

rush hour traffic backed up with the lightweights.

Tryin’ to fly straight with the wrong flock

goes together like orange soda and bomb pops.

A day’s end never train wrecked off a slow hault,

so while we’re at the pace of can’t-stop-won’t-stall,

I’m tryin’ to 3-step between the road blocks.

it’ll take more than track spikes and ankle-low socks,

it’ll take more than fuck-offs and so-whats,

more than you can afford off your mom and dad’s bucks.

It’s a long-shot, but we act like we’re shootin’ close-ups

posin’ with the rest and the most-ofs.

It’s a long walk outside’a this circle.

I’m’a  start a fire, and it’s startin’ with the curtain.

 -

Pre Chorus

Close as it gets, close as a kiss,

Any closer than this we might stick

Close as it gets, close as a kiss

Any closer than this we might stick

CHORUS

I’m runnin’ outta rage

Comin down from up.

If you can count your days,

your time has long been done.

If ain’t nobody gonna fix this,

then I will.

-

Hangin’ on like a broken light bulb in the ceiling

where no confidence can promise you’ll keep it.

The feelin’ won’t fly unless it has more reason

than the weekend and a full recovery from the previous.

Compulsively obsessed in a tailspin

facebook fanatic always checkin’ when the mail’s in.

Your happiness is influx with your inbox

tryin’ to get love when it’s not in stock.

Cousin please,

bet your etnies, disrespect runs directly

barfights connect without assembly

throwin’ more hooks than a fishin’ boat

floatin Jack Dempsey.

We know the math, but don’t wanna add it up:

either you’re in like Flynn, or outcast like Elphaba.

Simple measurements’a how we get down’ll

leave a hole in the floor and six feet in the ground.

Sunny Blue

Song: Sunny Blue

Album: Losing The Game

Artist: The Blend

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 8, 2008

ref: 

Sunny Blue,

I know you’re trying hard to find the truth, but this looks to me more like you’re searching for an excuse. If this goes down like you plan it, tomorrow’s going to be the same canvas as today except the paint will lack passion.

Sunny Blue, I’m cool with not taking another step, but I do got a problem with you standing on that ledge. Being alive is painful, and right now death makes sense. Your heart’s strangled in the moment  pressed against what’s next.

I got the call from Annie, and ran ‘til my feet began draggin’, down 5^th and Hampton cos’ both of my bike tires are flattened – sprintin’ soon as I got the news, she told me what you had been planning, and I figured to talk before you make this happen. I heard about the news with your significant other. Some kids were talkin’ about you at this party last summer. I was shook, cos’ whenever I saw the two of you together, ya’ll looked like you would never let go, no matter the relationship’s weather… well, I just don’t know what to say, I mean forever and never both got their final hours and I’ve let go so many times I forgot how to wrap my arms around.

My bad, I kinda got carried away. I had the same situation as you with this girl I used to date. You know that feelin’ you be feelin’ when you get close with somebody, your sense of balance and solar system revolve around’em. This is bigger than that Sunny. I’m not gonna lie to you: for all I care you can jump off this bridge and hang up your pumas, be the headline story on all of the local news fronts, and for the next two months be the fact, fiction and rumor. I’ve concluded cryin’ the same tears and same tunes, and I did not sprint the long ends of eight city blocks to save you. Some are born with privilege and some aren’t, and I stay alive to fight for even grounds. So jump

If you’re gonna stand there and not do it, I’m just gonna sit here and keep talking, just tell me if I’m a nuisance. I’d hate to break your train of thought deciding if to jump, or step down and walk away to contemplate a second run, ‘cos this isn’t a one-time thing, your life isn’t an episode, but if standin’ there helps you check yourself like a stethoscope, then so be it, but you’re searching to look admirable where not giving a fuck has become fashionable. The people that you want to care… don’t, and if you do this they’ll forget it like last year’s TRL host. Your self-esteem’s too dependent on your cell phone. Plus you cling to the past like bad Velcro. That’s natural Sunny, your situation’s not special. You’re tryin’ to hide it, but I can see you smiling half-way sarcastic ‘cos you don’t know what the hell you’re doing, and slightly crying ‘cos you know I’d jump with you.

Sunny Blue, I gotta go soon. The dawn is calling, the sky’s getting bright and my eyelids keep falling. Morning traffic will turn your privacy to public and you won’t feel the same with so many people watching. I care about you, and that’s the plain and simple truth, even if it makes me look sensitive and vulnerable. Sunny Blue, fuck the whole world for all it’s not worth. I’d sacrifice my prided life to make your memories not hurt. Past the point what you feel, you can’t touch or physically handle, so you carve it in your skin to make the pain tangible. Couldn’t ignore long the swollen stripes in your forearms, rockin’ long sleeves in the summer whistlin’ your song. Any more harm, I heard you would’ve cut through muscle, but this isn’t about that, or any of your other personal struggles. This is a friend saying whatever choice you make, you’ll still be loved, but… I can’t relate.

And before I go. Annie told me to tell you she loves you more than you’ll ever know. I told her that’s not enough, ‘cos you’re still standin’ here, quietly crying on the inside of your mind rationalizing death against how fucked up life is. I paused at the door, turned around and looked her right in her iris, and said I understand why she wouldn’t want to see something like this, but that if you jumped… I’d wanna be there before you do it.

To let you know life is worthwhile when there’s at least one person in the world that loves you more than the word defines it. That’s how I feel. I gotta go.

Special Deluxe

Song: Special Deluxe

Album: Losing The Game

Artist: The Blend

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 8, 2008

ref: 

Now let me swallow all my pride and digest the funk.

I got’a few stressed words but the rest is love

for my people’s brown skin kissed with the sun

rockin’ English as a second tongue. Let’s get it done:

I’m only showin’ up to finals, yes I drunk dial,

girl, I got 21 speeds on my cycle.

You could hop on, but baby don’t pop the tires,

they’re my mama’s wheels. Oh no, I can’t deny it

like evidence in trials and drunken freestyles,

I only represent the truth and nothin’ else,

cos working class is how I work this craft

and try to keep my product poppin’ like percoset.

When I say “eat the rich”, they go thinkin I’m crazy like Marlowe,

assumin’ that I’m too far gone.

So when we get a grammy nomination I’ma roll my car slow

down a red carpet with Carlos wit’

-

Chorus

Two-tone paint, sittin’ on twelves,

stolen tape deck and a cracked winshield.

Rollin’ down down Franklin, clutch 2^nd gear

Nowhere else but here

-

I sip shots from a shot glass that says “Puerto Rico”,

stay black like my name stays Martinican,

employee of the month, and the geek of the week,

still keepin’ it badass like Steve McQueen.

 I got enough energy to jumpstart five cars

and dodge emcees takin’ more shots than dive-bars.

My time is too fast to be contained by days,

so I’m measuring it page for page.

Got no face to save or any flames to aim,

not much pride to rhyme when you’re plain ol’ strange,

The type’a kid to space out starin’ at walls in class

and always roam around the school without a cause or hall-pass.

I’m aimless, an unsure thing shootin’ to make it,

accurate as an unsafe bet racing the day-shift,

settled for low maintenance, pacin’ the pavement

on an everyday quest and I’m keepin’ it basic

-

Chorus

Two-tone paint, sittin’ on twelves,

stolen tape deck and a cracked winshield.

Rollin’ down down Lake Street, clutch 2^nd gear

Nowhere else but here

-

I push a short bus with a trailer on the back,

sippin’ orange juice mixed with aristocrat.

Dignity split with grace and good tact,

but I keep rollin’ on with a tire drainin’ flat.

Breathin’ with a paper bag, not to lose my head,

cos my sister’s still askin’ me, “Who’s The Blend?”

It’s either food and rent, or booze and gin,

and that decision pends on how the afternoon gets spent:

Writing for five hours ‘til my mind’s soured

digested with the rest of what the time’s devoured.

Brain blocked same spot, tryin’ to write it out,

savin’ up, savin’ up, just enough to buy a vowel.

If you’re comin’ up short, don’t know what your climbin’ for,

I got my tattooed on the neck of the hi-score.

Find the doors, keep ya dimes and quarters.

I ain’t walkin’ outta here without my woman and the triforce.

The Blend: a band’a honest cooks

and working class heroes that never got a comic book.

It’s the bike locksmith, style unadopted,

Improvin’, late-night photoshoppin’,

propless, nationally renowned and jobless,

fresh off the wok, hot enough burn a dish,

the black Irish, with a German twist

AKA racially ambiguous.

Standin’ between just enough and not quite,

with my back as a fulcrum to measure what’s right.

I’ll bridge the gap when I swim across,

put it on my shoulders and carry it until it walks,

against odds, results and means,

an country makin’ profit off’a insultin’ queens.

Lost the dream and control

of a city buildin’ walls and condos in the congo.

Your privilege, our problem.

If you don’t wanna hear it, you can put it on-hold.

They don’t wanna see Amina the scholar,

they don’t wanna see me and Armando in a Silverado.

Remote and console, I’ll settle for my bike

Can’t let my wants get in the way of likes.

God is a woman and her name is necessity.

Most times I call her mom, cos she’s all I need.

To represent as a overtime employee

of the B-L-E-N-D.

That might be nothin’ to you, but it’s somethin’ to me,

and I push it with the utmost of L-O-V-E.

-

Chorus

Two-tone paint, sittin’ on twelves,

stolen tape deck and a cracked winshield.

Rollin’ down down 38^th, clutch 2^nd gear

Nowhere else but here

SouthDakotaCure

Song: SouthDakotaCure

Album: Losing The Game

Artist: The Blend

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 8, 2008

ref: 

Ya put it on the surface but it’s nothin’ I wanna see

Try to split me up in two like I’m my own dichotomy

Sophie, I don’t wanna go, I hope ya take it like a rockstar

Tear drop in the bucket and a crumb off the pie chart

Burn it down, burn it down, burn it down, burn it down

Burn it down, burn it down, burn it down, turn around

-

Chorus

I’m  out

I’m out

I’m

out

-

What’s the use, what’s the use, what’s the use, what’s the fuckin’ use

Treat me like your biggest mistake and your only excuse

Sophie, I don’t wanna go, I hope ya take it like a rockstar

Tear drop in the bucket and a crumb off the pie chart

Shoot me down, shoot me down, shoot me down, shoot me down,

Shoot me down, shoot me down, shoot me down, shoot me down.

-

Chorus

I’m out

I’m out

I’m out

I’m out

Time out

Die now

-

If South Dakota’s the cure, then I’m not a disease

Minneapolis I’d love ya even without Spring

Sophie, I’m not the reason

Sophia

This man is worth more than his debt.

Modern Techniques 1001

Song: Modern Techniques 1001

Album: Losing The Game

Artist: The Blend

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 8, 2008

ref: 

I got a crush on this girl, so much

that I’ve been runnin’ round the city actin’ on impulse,

then all’a sudden hesitant when she’s crossin’ my thoughts

like avenues in a rush, tryin’ to wave down a bus.

I’m facin’ pages on a table strugglin’ to stay awake

until I’m makin’ sense out of what I’m too afraid to say.

Frustrated and stuck at a café with a cup,

procrastinatin’ the day away, until the dawn’s mistaken for dusk.

Still keepin’ puma laced, sleeves elbow up,

out and makin’ moves with or without the sun.

Both shoes to the bike pedals get my nerves settled,

crossin’ downtown once again, returnin’ to the homestead.

An urban Stonehenge surrounded by cement meadows

all the way down the foundations: rock & metal,

cops & ghettos, trombones & cellos,

Link & Zelda, kick-drums, snares & cymbals.

But could it be so simple?

I caught her  glancin’ my way once, lookin’ like she was starin’ out a window,

non-chalant. Just happened to spare the time

on a random face runnin’ out of words to rhyme.

I’d give her what’s left, but wouldn’t dare to try,

knowin’ all she has for me is a pair of careless eyes

barely tied to that barren smile,

sharp enough to cut through five layers of pride.

It’s enough to make you feel like you don’t exist,

and ever since the day you were born, nobody’s noticed.

So devoted to makin’ a livin’ where it dies,

hopelessness becomes an instinct to wake up prepared to fight.

Up against her, it’s an unfair trial

knowin’ she’s done damage that can only be compared to fire.

Spare the smile, I didn’t come to share the while,

I got two scores to settle on my last layer of pride.