Young Moe

[trap.]

The Smokey Bar Trio


part 1

smokey bars...flow is godly



as i roll this cigarette
stroll memories lane bitter as old vinegarette
been upset for the past 8 years... miseries favorite dinner guest/
since depression's upsettin i'm usually left to self
regrettin all that i've let slip past my mitts that coulda helped/
dealt with issues that caused tissues to be used up in abundance
and death is redundant funerals been done in bunches cousin/
an unlucky knucklehead... used to heartbreak now want love instead
but love done said i'm not her type 'nother night in a loveless bed/
dust and dread plus somethin told me i was better off without
my story's set in bars get up to send this letter off and pout/
the smoke rings lend mystery to my sillhoutte while i write this
brim tipped over my eyes as my pen tip toes in silence/
and my solo act of defiance, is not tryin for better duke
i sit & reminsce on lovin women that i never knew/
shed a few, deaded brews, set to lose my sanity
sent to you as lettered proof this dude is used to tragedy/


00


II.

Another smokey bar


YO shoot this scene in black and white...my life ain't had no light
sacrafice and sufferin, enough to fill up half my nights/
dusty bars, luke warm drinks, smoke till i refuse to think
sittin at this piano punchin keys untill the music sinks/

went drinking with Buddah, i'll be back at three
and if i miss you at the champagne party have a glass for me/
it's a cinch still consider this my pin stripe suit song
vintage licks my radio's a crip it's got the blues on/
sick of tricks and fickle fits of adolescent appathy
straddlin the planks of fact and fiction till it's mad at me/
dramatics i'm over, lackin tact untill i sober up
loner since they took me out my mothers gut and sewed her up/
drank too much, so hold me up untill i can regain order
half way to a role model, call that zen with a hangover/
remain hopeless and find content in my pains opus
can't get my brain focused & if it is i ain't noticed/
all my roomates are roaches, on my sofa smokin openly
hocus pocus, nothin magical happens to broken me /
yo kids this is the real side of show biz
locusts and leaches one-year leases and no tips/



0000

III.


Last Call at the Dusty Bar


head rested on this dusty bar is where you'll find me usually
how you'll find me i don't know i'm not the man i used to be/
confucious dreams confusion deem my misery a human yet
amusin schemes & futile means of movin towards the groove in step/
infused with death, but who's the best, truth is i'm a sunken wreck
selected broken records and i'm just the dust that they collect/
neglected second sibling filling dull moments with pills and bud
one woman man " bartender can you hurry here and fill her up"/
dirty tears and little luck, buildin pillars to fill the ruts
this pillows tough, sleep eludes me, rudely so i'm still a nut/
whether or not i'm accepted;s not worth stressin the least bit
one eye open starin at this empty glass givin it speeches/
my past riddled with streets, clicks and task drillin us meek kids
at that militant teachins clasp we little delinquents/
and that's why I sing to you bitter sweet in harmony
it's hard for me but that's hardly worth your apology/