Kishore Kumar Hits

137 - Boon, Blood, or Doubloons lyrics

Artist: 137

album: Dining in the Lion's Den


Seen a lot of things
But never let them clip my wings
Even when they pulled the strings
Knickknack, paddywhack, gave a dog a bone
How many wolves do you think did roam
Motion
Thinking about all the pain of devotion
Your bod's
Stuck in the mud of a kiss and an oeillade
Nation
Given a bottle to store my perspiration
'Cause sweat is my ink
And I wrote a constitution
Dreamt that I lost my right eye like Odin
Sacrifice for the truth like my name is Snowden
Cheers to craft, kin, and Creator
Broke fortune cookie and found no paper
They're looking for my pen because I make it look easy
But they don't really want to go down path that tapers
Lots of promising souls
With goals languishing like good plans in bureaucracy
No consensus from crowds upon the fences
'Cause the truth is, achieving greatness is a dictatorship, not a democracy
I, have been told that I don't rock boat when I spit a bar
And I think, that's because they must not have scrutinized quite enough of my ink
Mainly manifest for the ones with their eyes unclosed but know
You don't have to know farming so to enjoy the seeds that I sow
Interesting cutting people out of one's life
And watching as their dead fish soon rise to the surface
In vino veritas is true, especially when sipping strife
If you want a sharper type of knife, truth with suffice
But there's no need to rub the genie out of the bottle
The telltales often hide in plain sight
Beckoning attention like a snake's rattle
Whip marks revealing circus animal's plight
Motion
Thinking about all the pain of devotion
Your bod's
Stuck in the mud of a kiss and an oeillade
Nation
Given a bottle to store my perspiration
'Cause sweat is my ink
And I wrote a constitution
In this life there are only allies and foes
And farmers offering a bit of everything they sow
I don't consider others a friend or a bro
Assist me, resist me, or pay coin to throne
Oh, you're so radical
But when time did come
You left podium
Um, sensible
As curriculum
With no practicum
Rough days
Tell the clouds to stay
I, dance in the puddles
As the violin plays
Can I keep thinking, a beat, will be a savior
From all the thoughts regret does savor
Strolling through the sands of times
But can't clench my toes
Seeing others likes mimes with sieves
Can't catch a drop and no words express their throes
Fresh fit, Emperor's new clothes
Sent from the sky
Like I'm Tengri
I can certify
(So don't fool yourself)
That you are yourself when you're hungry
That's a spicy truth, call it kimchi
Went to bed, first time happy in a while
Guess that happens when you stop worshipping sun dial
Many people's only time in newspaper's obituary
Guess at figure of my fate, a cosmic form of Pictionary
Easier to feign a toothache than it is to chew the meat
It's simpler to curse a craft than grab a brush and bleed on canvas
Laying offering at feet of deities who crave your madness
Listen closely, hear that ratatatatata
Feed the chorus
Motion
Thinking about all the pain of devotion
Your bod's
Stuck in the mud of a kiss and an oeillade
Nation
Given a bottle to store my perspiration
'Cause sweat is my ink
And I wrote a constitution
Friend or a foe or a fan
Or a layman
Agnostic, apostate
Or giving an amen
I chase and I stoke
And I search through the smoke
While I pray

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