The Ladder Builder Lyrics

Qwel & Jackson Jones Lyrics

Funny, this doesnt feel like the long path to Monday
Save the mundane, stomached and run along all lined and one lana
They debated once, the top moss even understood that the gate swung the one way
Thundering hinges hinged for funds sake, so snakes get guns and we get one ways
To walk along or get the run-around, sun spun about the sunrays
Sun spots touch the ground running, sung a song about a Sunday
Rung around the wristchips, but punch the punchclock tock in the smug face
His retort sorta slurred from blunt fangs, please bare with me people, he sang
Can't you heave more, you can be the one to reward, one, two, three, four
Plus you'll need us just as much as we need you to use your muscles, so listen
Once you reach for what you reach for more, you'll seek more
And need more and be more and be important to the work force
Mister missed her shot again and hit her in the midst of her lifting blisters
Whispered six tics that made her cringed figure whimper with a shiver
Go get those splinters on your own time, go find gold mines, hope I don't find you in me
Human being consumed in greed and dude just thinks it's winter
Funny but it feels more like a Tuesday two ways to tweek it money
A few days straight to the weekend hungry, clumsy with his reach
Hence sixth sensed it coming, to the tune of something and second comings
And everybody standing and gurgling a**uming it was money singing
But won't you help us to help you spell this world a better market
Art to sell yourself sufficient, hardened godless charred and chopped in starting blocks
Crops for rocks and garden props or stop to chart it
Garbage plots slop to harvest bartered stocks and living breathing children
Killing children, building it higher, fire spilling out of the sides
And climbing back up to the top again, or toppling in his hot descent
With target in his alt**ude, just found it out this afternoon
And ain't been back since third smoke break or so, heard Jo say that he was wrath consumed
Oozed a laugh through his gaseous fumes, hacked and hobbled past the masters
Smashed battered black and blue, grab that ladder, grasping bruise
If they'd have him rack his wrists just stacking bricks past the astral blue
He'd rather catch it master view and with a laugh and a leap he'd ask of you
When the rains fell, was the pain felt enough to make the ma**es move?
Tuesday pa**es hump day fast on, just imagine somedays' avenues
Packs of mules and plastic schools the fattest cracked stools
To catch it babel view, who asks what's it matter, he ain't mad at you?
Just had it through with stacking scaffold pa**ed as dues
Scuffed and clattered squeaks numb his thumb cling to rusted ladder rungs
Just imagine em run and scatter, that a bum, now stack em up where the splatter was
Fashionably sad, but not an option, watch em get docked to add it up
Flash back to smoke break, smash the b***, hold the last drag a sec or fashion up
Stretch crack your neck, shuffle past the gagging ma** of flesh, the whole mob mad intense and mob focusing
On what? He asks, somebody dares to laugh, a job opening
And I'm hoping that the ladder craftsman position isn't loaded with a quota to p*ss
Then I can hold it can mold it in golden control of control and Ill open with this
I can heave more bricks than a corps of war pics and a four horse lift
I can be your I can heave more, one to reward, one, two, three, four
I can eat more sh*t than a corps of war pigs and endure more miles
I can clip more boards than a four armed hoard and adore more chips
I can stack more stacks than a tour w**** pimp with a four four smile
Who knows what a minutes might do when they pay by the mile
And the kids are right, right and the bricks are tight tipping to the inner light
Bright when it hit us right when it hit us, height with a sight limit
Living life isn't flight, sh*t, hit em like a grip of bricks
And his slipping grip made em feel all high and mighty, Friday nightly be kinda flighty
More lightening like though, slowly and slightly overworked, used, workhorse bruised
Empty, dead door-nailed Babylonian, only ifs dripping through his head in twos

I can't breath

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