Lullaby Cube by KickThePJ Lyrics
I cannot sleep.
During the day I have uncontrollable daydreams,
And at night I have overactive imaginative ideas.
The ceaseless stream of inventions and ideas dragged me from my sleep at three every morning, refusing to settle until I've emptied every last drop onto paper.
Funnily enough, it was during one of these late-night Brainsplosions when I discovered a new way to cure my lack of sleep.
I created a machine to keep me in dreamland, to suck the thoughts straight from my pillow: my beautiful music box of stems and wires.
But this is no average Lullaby Cube; it takes a very exciting fuel resource: you put fascinating objects within to create the melody.
I have gathered soaps to keep my ideas clean and smelling of peaches, percussion to keep me grounded, let's not forget how important the minor things are. My sweet-sounding trusted Ukulele, these crayons keep the dreams vivid: Lime, mango, blueberry... A hot glue gun, a bandit's mask, and my favorite comic book.
Then I braid these innards into something new: a sound never before heard. It plays and sends me back to a heavenly slumber. Now when an idea raised its raucous head, it's sucked away to be dealt with in the waking hours.
Now I can sleep again.
It feels great.
During the day I have uncontrollable daydreams,
And at night I have overactive imaginative ideas.
The ceaseless stream of inventions and ideas dragged me from my sleep at three every morning, refusing to settle until I've emptied every last drop onto paper.
Funnily enough, it was during one of these late-night Brainsplosions when I discovered a new way to cure my lack of sleep.
I created a machine to keep me in dreamland, to suck the thoughts straight from my pillow: my beautiful music box of stems and wires.
But this is no average Lullaby Cube; it takes a very exciting fuel resource: you put fascinating objects within to create the melody.
I have gathered soaps to keep my ideas clean and smelling of peaches, percussion to keep me grounded, let's not forget how important the minor things are. My sweet-sounding trusted Ukulele, these crayons keep the dreams vivid: Lime, mango, blueberry... A hot glue gun, a bandit's mask, and my favorite comic book.
Then I braid these innards into something new: a sound never before heard. It plays and sends me back to a heavenly slumber. Now when an idea raised its raucous head, it's sucked away to be dealt with in the waking hours.
Now I can sleep again.
It feels great.