The Story of My Life - Astronautalis, P.O.S.

I was born in a box car

Color-blind, pigeon toed, pock-marked

Twisted figure, broken heart

They’d fixed up with monkey parts

(P.O.S.)

I was born in a four story roach motel

With floor to ceiling agitations

Wooden blocks and basic distaste for anything else

(Andy)

I was raised by a pack of wolves

Nursed in our nation’s capital

Taught to hunt and gather food

Howl at the moon in the reflecting pool

(P.O.S.)

I was raised by a slow jam

Two grizzlies for a mother who cared

Six packs of ramen, Nostradamus paranoia and fear

(Andy)

I fell in love with the flim-flammer

Charming con-artist, sexy counterfeiter

Pretty grifter, hidden ace switch making quick fingers

(P.O.S.)

I fell in love with the most beautiful vulture

She picked away my flesh, I’m left with skeletons

Welcome warm and tearing through like soldiers

(Andy)

And she gave birth to my only son

A smoking gun

Blue eyed, block chip

On the first warm day to end the ice age prospect

(P.O.S.)

And she gave birth to a lion-cub

It’s followed me for years now

I’m leaning by the A’s so I don’t peak

I know it’s chewing on my fingers while I sleep

I know it’s stupid but it keeps without a leash

And I’ve been trying to set it loose

It seems it’s freedom stripping me

So I treat it like what it is

I lay these eggshells to remember to be careful

(both)

You can find a swarm where the stingers hold back

You can find a warm spot in a cold snap

If you don’t scratch when the itches make you hair stand tall

It may shake you but you won’t fall

(Andy)

Justice can sleep for centuries

To wake when it’s least expected

I never seen miraculous deeds

Fall on those who expect them

Life ain’t a dream it’s just a string of jokes

All connected

There’s something beautiful to me

In the act of making your own death bed

(P.O.S.)

And we sung

We walk with smiles like chalk, quick to wash off

Suit and loose and unbuttoned like ready to draw

Love it raw 'till tender is far too fierce for us

Winter is almost here for us, and like July

Hard to find tracks when it’s buried under so much decay

Hard to find trail when it’s buried under what’s paved

This is the story of my trial by erosion of words

Simple what’s right like who’s just being polite

(both)

You can find a swarm where the stingers hold back

You can find a warm spot in a cold snap

If you don’t scratch when the itches make you hair stand tall

It may shake you but you won’t fall down

(Andy)

You can find a swarm where the stingers hold back

You can find a warm spot in a cold snap

If you don’t scratch when the itches make you hair stand tall

It may shake you but you won’t fall down