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Ferris Wheel

from Growing up Gay by Chris Conde

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lyrics

bike ride slow / through the wind and the cold
but i’m tryin’ to get that shit / cuz i’m fiendin’ and i’m cold
i’m so fucked up / cuz i got myself a hole in my soul that i’ve tried to stuff up with that
ice coca cola, whiskey, / Jesus let let me get these /please just let my friends be
home so i can empty / out my pockets tradin’ up my dollars for this nonsense / but i really just don’t care as long as i stop feeling nauseous / polish off my bottom dollar holler if you holdin / hope my homies home so i forget about this moment / and the ones that will come after
and the ones that came before it /escape into a state of drug-enduced abused endorphins/ Of course I’m morphin into a corpse, and coursing through me slow inevitable death of testing methamphetamines / I never bet that i would see myself accepting death’s defeat
but then again i never thought i’d even be alive past age 15 / cuz this is my life don’t ever try and re-arrange it / i’ll live for myself, to hell with all your fucking haters / I tried to live without sin, but sins within my nature / so every time i bust a rhyme i hope you catch the vapors

cuz i’m not trying to feel,
just want to watch the lights
as i spin on this ferris wheel
cuz i’m not trying to feel
just want to feel the air
between my fingertips foreal

but why the fuck can’t i stop using long enough to write some music, used to use this
shit to juice up lyric writing and producing. Confused about my use i’m stoned out like i saw medusa / excuses prove i’m using way beyond the word “profusely” and i’m losing myself / health is fading. i really think my fucking kidneys are fucking failing, bottle of jameson a day / has got me sailing and i don’t see another way out besides my taking my own life /these cold nights with no lights bro my foresight, a short life with toes ice cold / or more like a sword fight with your eyes closed / no more life, no more fight, no more cycle and i know / the nails are halfway in the coffin, i’m rottin from the inside out, i just sit back and watch them lower me deeper, see the reaper in sky just watching / plottin to pull my soul to hell, and tell my have a nice day /and i can feel it the blackness, that fact is i practice / this witch craft the matches, the candles the ashes, the curses / the verses immersed and rehearsed in the service of self with
the drugs in my person

credits

from Growing up Gay, released January 1, 2019
prod. by. Angel Marcloid

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Chris Conde Brooklyn, New York

Matching technical lyricism with subversive, punk rock bravado queer Brooklyn rapper Chris Conde’s live show tells the story of the rapper’s voyage out of drug addiction and internalized homophobia. It’s a blood-letting ritual punctuated by the Brooklynite’s sex-positive prowess that continues to challenge and inspire his audiences, while dramatically shifting the landscape of indie hip-hop. ... more

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