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High Anxiety (feat. Ben Miles)

from Zebehazy Summer by Passalacqua

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lyrics

Face look like a stained window
In a room playing the same demo
The pain's mental like my mind's burning in flames with no escape
Like I'm stuck
When's the last time I ate, when's the last time I slept
What the fuck?
Deprivation flows
All that's left is my spoken words
Cut me open see the broken nerves
17 was a very good year, soft nights
Me and small town girls used to hide from the lights
But now the days grow short
Lord knows I want plenty more
I'm in the autumn of my years at 24
I'm an insomniac and a hypochondriac
Macabre thoughts knock at every door
Cock back, I'm at heavy war with myself
There's nobody else
See I'm the only one
Try'na hold it all together
With small change and a feigned smile
Darkness all around
Blocking out the sun

He knows that he's falling - I hope you don't.

It's one of those nice nights in the city
That I'm all too accustom to:
People try to get a hold of me any way that they can, so
Pickin' up the phone's one thing I never do, 'cause
Inside of my mind, it happens a lot
And it's approximately whenever the rappin' will stop
When I'm consumed by the gloom of debt and gotta
Figure out a way to get a bit of grub by tomorrow
Creative process slows, glazin' over envelopes that read,
"Important Account Information Enclosed"
...and three times a day,
Sallie Mae's on my case with the same ol' same
With a gallon of gas at $3.78
Exacerbating my bank account at a pace
That I cannot catch up to, focus disintegrates
Due to beers that I chase with a blunt to the face

[Ben Miles]
My mind's spinning like a fan blade
Bugging out about my mincy little fan base, really need a damn break
I'm trying to get on, and every single beat I spit on
I shit on but nobody listens
These little shows are like prisons
This 30 person crowd got my heart banging loud
I'm stressed the fuck out
Either I can't rap for shit or being the shit just doesn't make a difference
Keep the hating to a minimum act like a gentleman
Go to crowded shows and I clap at the end of them
But the envy got me feeling greener than a gremlin
The upper echelon's lexicon ain't no better than
The penmanship I'm peddling or pedigree I represent
I'm the only one who seems to see that
Maybe I should put the mic down and just ease back
Whole thing's got me stressed out, I don't need that...

credits

from Zebehazy Summer, released October 26, 2011

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Passalacqua Detroit, Michigan

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