Bars
[Verse 1: Taelor Gray]
Lofty
Idle with my idols, I shift to Ryan Gosling
Drive, moxie; this Holy Spirit proxy
Communicates my next move
And every step is graceful, shades of Bing Crosby
And I be staring at these bars
A prisoner of listeners
Hoping they be caring about these bars
And thus begins my sentence
Thus begins my sentence, saith God, in old English verb tenses
I hope you're catching it, my rhymes come with this catcher's mitt
But it's rarely at a faster pitch
It's more like Kaepernick just outside the pocket
Man, it's gain either way, look, (I'm game either way)
Man, they saying that art imitates life
But I'm feeling we be wanting the reverse
Searching for the answers or a canvas we can penetrate
Like, I'm defined by my verse or we defined by our works
Like we can trust 'em
Muskets stuffed with gunpowder, just to make us louder
And really we just cowards
Really we just clouded
You see the daylight, but we late night Jimmy Fallon
Sitting on that lonely island
Please like my status, please like my magic
I'm wearing all these hats just to pull you out these rabbits
Applaud a fraud and you can see the farce
But I'm with Paul and Silas 'cause I stay behind these bars
[Chorus: Christon Gray]
In the moonlight, seems like
You keep me under lock and key
Oh, I'm locked away
Nowhere to hide, but find me dancing in the dungeon
I find release today
[Verse 2: Christon Gray]
Uh, I'm including myself
No stealth, hidden agendas
No self-driven opinions
I felt heavy, y'all
Nd Bill Withers had this song
Called me use me up
Recorded the fender
Hits my heart
And for my Lady Wisdom
I been a contender with my heart
Not the most worthy defender, though
Trustworthy, that is
Some heard me on that while others will hit me on this
Trust me, I used some in the most literal sense
'Cause there's many more I tend to touch
Plenty that don't attend a church
I'm an artist, you don't gotta give me much
Just tryna warm up the temperature
Some yellows, reds, and the the mini-brush
It's all about the details
I'm only my signature
Dominate, so dominate, subordinate
Everything still needs order, Chris
Really ain't that important, Chris
How can we move on from this
My pride had me like
"I beg your pardon, I'm an artist fine."
His reply was, "Fine art is not design."
To which I reply, "Beg you to pardon my artist mind."
Seems like I'm colored out of the margin lines
And all this time creating this mental prison
Sentencing myself for my failure
I'm the inmate and the jailer
Wow, they say life is what you make it
But I've made it in the bars and cages
I guess I made it in the bars and cages
(I guess I made it in the bars, bars)
[Chorus: Christon Gray]
In the moonlight, seems like
You keep me under lock and key
Oh, I'm locked away
Nowhere to hide, but find me dancing in the dungeon
I find release today
