A sprawling, anxious rap about feeling staged, unheard, and watching childhood slip away.
A sprawling, anxious rap about feeling staged, unheard, and watching childhood slip away.
The song's power comes from its specific, accumulating details rather than a single argument.
It trusts the vignettes, the change under the seat, the needle in the neck, the blues and grays on a canvas, to build the weight.
A sprawling, anxious rap about feeling staged, unheard, and watching childhood slip away.
Little kids stay little kids cause growing up is gone.
The song's power comes from its specific, accumulating details rather than a single argument. It trusts the vignettes, the change under the seat, the needle in the neck, the blues and grays on a canvas, to build the weight.
The phrase 'theater of the absurd' isn't just a reference. It's the actual condition described: a character gets his cue to speak, and 'an understudy steps on his lines'. The whole performance is broken.
It flips the usual idea. It's not that they refuse to grow up; the possibility has been removed. That 'cause' does all the work.
The delivery on 'Not a word.spoke, he goes unheard', that slight pause and the period in the middle of the phrase, feels like the breath being cut off.
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The lyric stays readable and compact here; the note and related paths sit nearby so you do not lose the song while looking for context.
Now baby get up out that water
Cause every castle in the sand's bound to falter
It's like the rock at Gibraltar
Another sheep selfishly sent to the slaughter, holler
He lives like an audition, he skipped his intuition
Living like a nerve on feelings and superstitions
He swerves through fasts and curves through masses
And passes a million dirty looks, he shuffles books
His every moment is staged, he feels he's plagued with this playwright who fails to give his character some insight
Oh, and every time he gets the cue to speak his mind at the stage-left an understudy steps on his lines
Not a word...spoke, he goes unheard
Is this a joke? His mellow drama is now the theater of the absurd
It seems that off the serendipities the music comedy drama weathered and haggardly enters the amusing tragedy
Who changes script and change the block and changes roles
Pulls the gun from his bag and gets to cocking
Pulls the trigger at the kids who kept him as an outsider
And turns that shit on himself so he can finally meet his writer
Little kid walks out in the street
Man behind the wheel looks for the change under the seat
Little girl belly empty she hold strong
Woman gives up hope says it's been too long
Peace love unity respect
Parties over dancing with a needle in his neck
Bright eyes Debbie dark when dad comes home
Pretends to count sheep so that she'll be left alone
She only digged for money once or twice
Said he learned the true meaning of Minnesota nice
A Springerville (?) Sea breeze fixed his head
Mother shakes and screams tries to wake the dead.
Little kids live on incomplete
Little kids trick without the prospect of a peak
Steady coming down from a law all wrong
Little kids stay little kids cause growing up is gone.
She was always well dressed, well groomed, well known
But she hid behind the canvas the second she got home
She loved to paint, nothing in particular
Just blues and grays, that's the way she felt throughout her days
Her landscape was shaped by friends and hangers on
From boys to the push-up bras they pulled on
But she was always very wary cause popularity's scary especially when sincerity rarely comes in clearly
To her it was all fake, mock life, mock friends
She wanted to paint it white and start again
She wrote letters to her little brother and mother and packed up her stuff
And she ran like water colors.
Now, a little change in scenery never hurt nothing but still life
But still life's been everything but real for her, right?
Without a crew she's like without a clue so like she don't know who she's like, know what I mean?
She found a crew she liked, started up knew but the only thing that's left on her is the paint on her jeans
So she'll be gone soon
Little kid walks out in the street
Man behind the wheel looks for the change under the seat
Little girl belly empty she hold strong
Woman gives up hope says it's been too long
Peace love unity respect
Parties over dancing with a needle in his neck
Bright eyes Debbie dark when dad comes home
Pretends to count sheep so that she'll be left alone
She only digged for money once or twice
Said he learned the true meaning of Minnesota nice
A Springerville (?) Sea breeze fixed his head
Mother shakes and screams tries to wake the dead.
Little kids live on incomplete
Little kids trick without the prospect of a peak
Steady coming down from a law all wrong
Little kids stay little kids cause growing up is gone.
Now baby get up out that water
Cause every castle in the sand's bound to falter
It's like the rock at Gibraltar
Another sheep selfishly sent to the slaughter, holler
Get up out that water
Cause every castle in the sand's bound to falter
It's like the rock at Gibraltar
Another sheep selfishly sent to the slaughter, holler
A sprawling, anxious rap about feeling staged, unheard, and watching childhood slip away. The song's power comes from its specific, accumulating details rather than a single argument. It trusts the vignettes, the change under the seat, the needle in the neck, the blues and grays on a canvas, to build the weight.
P.O.S. performs "Little Kids", and this lyric page sits inside the P.O.S. catalog on LyroVerse.
Yes. The page carries the LyroVerse editor's note "P.O.S. sketches a theater of the absurd", followed by the full lyric and related songs.
Yes. The related section below points to How We Land and All Of It with a short reason for opening each page next.
Use the artist link near the top of the page or the related paths section below to keep moving through P.O.S.'s lyric pages.
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