Dead Roses by Transcendent Lyrics
[Intro]
I think about death a lot. I think about what I'm going to leave behind, where I'm going to end up, what kind of impact I'm going to make...if I'm even going to make one at all. Shit, I put so much pressure on myself because I'm scared as hell of being someone that's forgotten...but that's what it takes, isn't it? An undying need for fulfillment. An obsession, to the point of insanity
[Verse 1 – 24 bars]
20 at the time of writing this
The age where I make my idle hands write a song or write a list
I’m wired with adrenaline, never sleep, won’t stop, et cetera
‘Cause if a hand’s raised in victory, the second hand gets ahead of you
Minutes melt to hours, and the memories persist
Of my dad and myself thinking, “Damn son, I know you’re better than this!”
Full of adamant grit
As I’m planning what’ll happen, not a second chance, this is it
“Gotta keep the pace or I won’t validate my time here/
“Being mediocre means I’m a waste of space,” that rings between my ears
My fears fueled further by comparisons
I’ve gotten buried in
Claw the soil, unearthing rose petals
Won’t smell them ‘cause while I’m stopped, the others grow better
They say it’s not a race but my view is they’re ahead of me
Just trying to get a leg up like wrestling a centipede
Desperately trying to be the best and I’m finding
That I’m steadily improving but I question my timing
Greats have made it by my age…why am I struggling to make a name
When I do the right things and focus with a laser aim?
I’m not playing games, I breathe for this
Not time to shine yet? Well it sure seems it is
If the door’s cracked, won’t hesitate to throw it open
Fixation hinges on it, always go for broken
[8 bar bridge]
6 feet, smothered deep beneath the dead roses
So distracted by the finish that I just noticed
No aromas can penetrate an oak coffin
Your own corrosion’s all that stays boxed in
Never take time to use my olfactory sense
Working in the lab like an old factory since
That’s the way to the top, but what’s the point being immortalized
If you never stop and realize that there’s more to life?
That’s the way to the top, but what’s the point being immortalized
If you never stop and realize that there’s more to life?
That’s the way to the top, but what’s the point being immortalized
If you never stop and realize that there’s more to life?
[Verse 2 – 24 bars]
I’m no cynic, but I’m my own worst critic
Since I know of no limits, I insist I push my writtens
To a higher plateau than rap knows
To leave a legacy as the best there’ll ever be: rap’s GOAT
Grapple high standards, stressing that I stay focused
Disappointed if I’m not a hybrid Shakespeare and Beethoven
Twisted notion of the concept of self worth
How can I preach self-acceptance if I can’t accept myself first?
Hell, some days it’s hard to tell why I’m doing this
To influence? True, but I’m scared the glory will become more important than the music is
At which point, it’s ludicrous to pursue it
Further due to fervor from my ego and the music biz
I swear I’m losing it, man…and I’m not even on yet
Still got something to prove with every fucking project
Am I talking nonsense or inferiority complex?
All I know is it’s a process
Training daily to sustain progress
Kill myself for music, evolving bag of flesh and bones
Turning epitaphs of my former self into stepping stones
It’s all I’ve ever known, it’s all I’ll ever be
I’ll keep the drive but I need to change the way I think
Elevate my craft, hope I’m at peace when I’ve made it there
The mirror’s gawking at me…I need to take the stares
I think about death a lot. I think about what I'm going to leave behind, where I'm going to end up, what kind of impact I'm going to make...if I'm even going to make one at all. Shit, I put so much pressure on myself because I'm scared as hell of being someone that's forgotten...but that's what it takes, isn't it? An undying need for fulfillment. An obsession, to the point of insanity
[Verse 1 – 24 bars]
20 at the time of writing this
The age where I make my idle hands write a song or write a list
I’m wired with adrenaline, never sleep, won’t stop, et cetera
‘Cause if a hand’s raised in victory, the second hand gets ahead of you
Minutes melt to hours, and the memories persist
Of my dad and myself thinking, “Damn son, I know you’re better than this!”
Full of adamant grit
As I’m planning what’ll happen, not a second chance, this is it
“Gotta keep the pace or I won’t validate my time here/
“Being mediocre means I’m a waste of space,” that rings between my ears
My fears fueled further by comparisons
I’ve gotten buried in
Claw the soil, unearthing rose petals
Won’t smell them ‘cause while I’m stopped, the others grow better
They say it’s not a race but my view is they’re ahead of me
Just trying to get a leg up like wrestling a centipede
Desperately trying to be the best and I’m finding
That I’m steadily improving but I question my timing
Greats have made it by my age…why am I struggling to make a name
When I do the right things and focus with a laser aim?
I’m not playing games, I breathe for this
Not time to shine yet? Well it sure seems it is
If the door’s cracked, won’t hesitate to throw it open
Fixation hinges on it, always go for broken
[8 bar bridge]
6 feet, smothered deep beneath the dead roses
So distracted by the finish that I just noticed
No aromas can penetrate an oak coffin
Your own corrosion’s all that stays boxed in
Never take time to use my olfactory sense
Working in the lab like an old factory since
That’s the way to the top, but what’s the point being immortalized
If you never stop and realize that there’s more to life?
That’s the way to the top, but what’s the point being immortalized
If you never stop and realize that there’s more to life?
That’s the way to the top, but what’s the point being immortalized
If you never stop and realize that there’s more to life?
[Verse 2 – 24 bars]
I’m no cynic, but I’m my own worst critic
Since I know of no limits, I insist I push my writtens
To a higher plateau than rap knows
To leave a legacy as the best there’ll ever be: rap’s GOAT
Grapple high standards, stressing that I stay focused
Disappointed if I’m not a hybrid Shakespeare and Beethoven
Twisted notion of the concept of self worth
How can I preach self-acceptance if I can’t accept myself first?
Hell, some days it’s hard to tell why I’m doing this
To influence? True, but I’m scared the glory will become more important than the music is
At which point, it’s ludicrous to pursue it
Further due to fervor from my ego and the music biz
I swear I’m losing it, man…and I’m not even on yet
Still got something to prove with every fucking project
Am I talking nonsense or inferiority complex?
All I know is it’s a process
Training daily to sustain progress
Kill myself for music, evolving bag of flesh and bones
Turning epitaphs of my former self into stepping stones
It’s all I’ve ever known, it’s all I’ll ever be
I’ll keep the drive but I need to change the way I think
Elevate my craft, hope I’m at peace when I’ve made it there
The mirror’s gawking at me…I need to take the stares