Hot Mess

from Year of the Boomslang by Device Grips

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lyrics

How many times have i told you? that I don't mess around, and I ain't nobodies fool. How many times do you get down with the blues? How many times that you just can't fit those shoes? I'll leave it all, on the dance floor with you, How many people tend to feel just like this too?
So now I ride on top of this, broken heart metropolis, there ain't no sense in stopping it, so I go where the wind takes me, that's where I gotta be, I'm betting on myself, but that's like trying to win the lottery, and I know- it's best to plant your seeds and let them grow, but instead I spend my time trying to dig bigger hole, I'd let it go, but I'd rather hold on past my breaking point. Minneap to PDX, who do you want to make it for? Get it right. and make it seem effortless, death is my cousin, but sleep is my nemesis, reap all of the benefits from dropping heavy words, after all instead of doing this, you could be getting curbed. Burred vision, but I'm guided by the stars, residing on the planet and breathing in the tar. Rip my chest open and all you see is scars, a broken heart on my sleeve, I should've known from the start.

credits

from Year of the Boomslang, released August 16, 2013

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about

Device Grips Portland, Oregon

Flashy horns, vintage beats, crunchy funk guitar, power hungry bass lines, Vocals like titans, anthems of the demi-gods.
Forged from cast iron, sent to earth on meteorite: Device Grips is a creature birthed by Aphrodite and Mars {son of Zeus}