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If I Live To See Tomorrow

(D.Christoff)

...

If I live to see tomorrow

That tomorrow better be polite

I’ve spent my life in darkness, I’m begging for some bright

I’m ready for the light

Lime

I’ve left my coat and umbrella behind

I told the weatherman

Please, let the weather shine

Or get ready for a milkshake, Nick Cage

Let him breath, or let him slide

Let it be or let him die

Paul

Live and let die like Lennon in the Rye

By Salinger and Chapman

Dakota…Dead inside

I’ve said it all before, though I’ve never said it twice

I’ve never said it twice

I’ve never said it twice

I’m the devil in disguise and it’s been one hell of a life

I’m the one who fed the fire

The one who fanned the flames

The one who had the balls to get a canvas to stain

And splash that MotherFucker like Jackson with paint

I’m Pollock on a beat bleeding passion and pain

They laughing at my face

They jabbing at my weight

Like I’m some clown slipping on banana peels

My face ain’t a target for your coconut cream

your low self-esteem’s so obvious

All because you’re nobody

Tippy-toe

Napoleon’s heels

Dynamite or Bonaparte

You see, the truth is…

we’re a couple globes apart

And on mine I represent the broken hearted

While you’re alone on yours…A solo artist

Disrespect Me on a youtube comment board

But get used to the face on your monitor

Everybody wants me to be what they want me to be

But I ain’t no motherfucking Commodore

Fuck sex appeal

I don’t know how to sell

I’m a writer trying to write my mind out of hell

Without a combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell

Fuck a novelty to get the world to follow me

I’ve penned magic but haven’t seen a penny paid

Rap’s Lennon trying to pen a Penny Lane

Very strange

I stumbled over every shake

My road traveled is bumpier than Lemmy’s face

Three years spent spitting lyrics written for

Listeners sick of all the piss poor spitters forced

Throat down

Trying to multiply my three years worth

Of listeners by a million more in my forth

I’m not stupid

I’m never making Puffy ends

But underground groups generate a couple M’s

And I wanna see five before my fucking end

I don’t want to die and be discovered then

And go from four albums loved by a dozen fans

To another million jumping on my bandwagon

Screaming

‘D was the fucking man!’

Loud enough for Spin Magazine to hear

And maybe spare me some fucking press

Then my money hungry sister and her husband can

Slander me on paper and publish it

Fucking pig

And every dream seller with their false promises

Can kneel before my coffin and suck my dick

So…

If I live to see tomorrow

That tomorrow better be polite

I’ve spent my life in darkness, I’m begging for some bright

I’m ready for the light

Lime

I’ve left my coat and umbrella behind

I love you all

So take Jonestown

Take it all

Take my catalogue

I don’t want your cash

Just listen to the words

That’s all I ask

I’m tired of writing for the walls and my starving cats

I’m sick of being overlooked by these fucks scared to think

And don’t get my references

So they call me wack

I’m not skinny and I wear glasses

I’m not Slim

So they choose not to listen and call me fat

Just heard the new Adele record

That record’s great

But have you seen Adele?

She’s fucking fat!

Beth Ditto’s new solo record’s coming

I heard the snippets

Too bad she’s so fucking fat

Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s brilliant in his new picture

But, who cares?

He’s fucking fat!

What the fuck’s with that?

See, the difference is you look like Fozzy Bear Flame

And I, Jonah Hill

But I can fucking rap

So when the bullet’s in my brain

And the ambulance arrives

To load me in their truck, in a body bag

And the story's on Exclaim and ChartAttack

With a photograph of me in a plague doctor’s mask

And Kaplan says…

He gave it all away, cuz the music was all he had

Yeah.

So If I live to see tomorrow

That tomorrow better be polite

I’ve spent my life in darkness, I’m begging for some bright

I’m ready for the light