If I Live to See Tomorrow

[Verse 1]
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
Philip 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