The Cure Songtext

von Sage Francis

Don't deny that sick feeling in your stomach you can't run from it.
Let it guide you into high view and move beyond the summit.
From peeks to valleys speed through alleys if it's done quick,
You'll have time to find the caves where the days are never sunlit.

Find the scriptures made by a society of blind men,
Who suggest the best direction's where you most likely will find them...
Dead set on checkmates embracing a chess set.
When bedspreads get wet they're left with the scent of death threats.

In 7 seconds I'll become undone, I'm breaking through.
If you're around by the time I reach number one I'm taking you.
You're not the traveling type? Then hide your baggage better,
Before you die a normal death and write the average letter

About your internal furnace,
And how life's a sexually transmitted disease that you contracted from her kiss.
When a boy writes off the world it's done with sloppy misspelled words if
A girl writes off the world it's done in cursive.

I'm searching for the cure
This is a sickness
Can you hear me, love?

I kick dirt for what it's worth listening to the birds chirp
The same cryptic speech that the breeze speaks and sea repeats.
Recognizing the cycles with every passing day.
Writing full demands in the sand with my toe til crashing waves washed it away

I watch what I say now but I hate it.
Trying to make my mark, afraid of the dark nature of vague statements
That plague vacant parking lots where shopping carts go uncollected.
That sick feeling in my stomach start to leave my heart and soul infected.

I won't accept it. I do my best to reject patterns til it hurts,
Every second making bad turns for the worse.
She's getting further away I can feel it in the way my bones ache.
The ocean sealed it's lips, now the waves won't break.

The secrets it won't say has got us trying to break codes in churches
And lately I've been hating its soul purpose.
When a boy writes off the world it's done with sloppy misspelled words if
A girl writes off the world it's done in cursive.

I'm searching for the cure
This is a sickness.
Can you hear me, love?

Now I look for air pockets to pick, walk with a stick, start picking locks with it.
Opening up heart-shaped lockets with little arguments.
The tawdry trinkets start to split and contradict
Those who say one thing but think the opposite.

I bit the dust tongue kissing documents in a smoke stack.
Faith is harder to swallow than pride it, turns our throats black.
I want my home back. I know that's not an available option.
It's the way that I'm walking in between a cradle and coffin

That makes me pace myself. if half the battle is done right,
The other half won't take my health while jacking my shadow's sunlight
To crack it open and find the space between my breaths are desolate
Life is just a lie with an "f" in it and death is definite.

But after I scratched the surface
I never saw the calm before the storm act so nervous.
When a boy writes off the world it's done with sloppy misspelled words if
A girl writes off the world it's done in cursive.

I'm searching for her
Can you hear me, love?
Can you hear me love?
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