Show Lyrics


Mars ILL - My Coloring Book
(from the album Blue Collar Sessions)
© copyright 2002


Verse 1:
Its just the same old song, forgot the words and hummed the melody/
Broke the knob off for my liking, banked in the left corner pocket/
Hold souls in the clutch, with a bad touch of memory/
Spoke to God soft one night and climbed aboard the moving object/
Used disturbing version of classic draws his line in the sand/
For you to cross, fire warning shots and knock the target off/
Got tossed to a fall from grace under firing squad/
Carpool schools of thought, perched it high upon the bar stool/
The blue skyís crooked tooth grin just calls out for my company/
But I tell you all of my secrets when Iím locked inside my room/
I long to feel the grass so green as the concrete glides while under me/
Its the price I pay to give mankind a catchy little tune/
I wanna stomp holes in the groundwork, shake foundations design/
Find sight for sore eyes, blinded by Iím just wasting my time/
Harness the nervous energy when I paint outside the lines/
I want to scribble inside the coloring book Ďtil the picture becomes mine/
Iím just a poor mans version of rocking with a chronic breathing problem/
I live a couple miles down from Sodom with my finger on the button/
And yíall cant tell me nothing I ainít seen or heard or read about/
Suck the sky into my lungs and open my loud mouth just to get it out/

Verse 2:
In a hand to mouth society, my mandible breaks fingertips/
Grabbing hand of a fist or a handful of something/
My mood swings bring a fist to face placement in a game of cat and mouse/
With a fast forward will to live so Iím running/
As the crow flies,far flung grow eyes and a tongue in my skulls back/
Covered by a skullcap and a keen sense of direction/
Blow by seven little world wonders on a hop skip and a jump on the way to my next session/
So hold tight, wrap both hands around my simple life tonight/
Kindle fires till light still spindle spinning flames in the middle/
Flickering sparks to start contrast the hearts to burn with a passion/
Paint a vibrant landscape and await the crowds reaction/

Verse 3:
I want to fray the edges of the page and pretend Iím feeling fine/
Blot the face of my community Ďtil everybodyís color blind/
Capture the captive glances when I paint outside the lines/
I want to scribble inside the coloring book Ďtil the picture becomes mine/
Yo I wouldnít give a plug nickel for you whole thin dime assortment/
Something magic happens when we breathe on hand-held stand and a cordless/
The short lived legend, thirty seconds to let us shine/
Then pop in the VHS cassette, sit back and press rewind/
Then press down on the page, for a darker shade of pitiful/
A little clone of God I pray I resemble the original/
Iím an avid average globetrotter who never set foot in Harlem/
A common man who struggles to deal with a modest level of stardom/
Iíll choose my color from the carton once I see that flower blossom/
Push my crayon to the wall and hope I never hit the bottom.

Verse 4:
With all do respect to the architect, Iím a demolition expert/
I call collect my network, wall to wall I got you all in check/
Stall the second hand to hand me back the moments I misplayed/
Crawl to recollect the missing features of my Fathers face/
Tolerate the oceans polluted cue for another minute or two/
Finish with you, dominate, take my music to where the snakes congregate/
Iíll stop the hate, drop the bomb, wait for the world to repopulate/
Nah, heís back set down the mental traffic like a speed trap/
I feel like i got called up and left without my kneecaps/
Might grab my lifeís work and start again but they cant see that/
I want to move, I want to change, I want to live, I want to climb/
I want to scale the tallest summit just to give my people a sign/
Want to take this tarnished planet, polish it up until it shines/
I want to scribble inside the coloring book Ďtil the picture becomes mine/
I want to silence all my critics when i paint outside the lines/
I want to scribble inside the coloring book Ďtil the picture becomes mine/
Hold the prism between my palms and pray for Gods mentality/
The starving artists whoís harsh realityís trying to feed his family/
Fallacyís down and happily drowning life to come as he sees it/
Walk away from the page when he realizes its completed.