DESCRIPTION:
►► Sidewalk on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sidewalk.symbiosis
Written and performed by Sidewalk / $tr8 "Outta Control".
Instrumental taken from "The Last To Say" by Atmosphere.
Mixed by Goofy.
Video by Spyros.

LYRICS:

Unsung, unspoken, unwritten understanding until uttered universally.
I'm upstanding, unassertive, unnecessarily nervous.
No, nothing's needed; nothing's now nurtured.
Known negativity and negligence since.
Psychotherapy's sentimentally strenuous,
so sensuous sentences solace and strengthen.
Seven songs/poems per personal persuasion portraying poets' perfectionism,
persistence, openness, opinions, and ongoing optimism.
Honestly, homage is obviously overdue.
Originality over ordinary output.
Career outlooks keep countries objective, 'cause crafts keep creators engaged in crates.
Keepsakes kindle curiosity in keen kids.
Cosset expressions, 'cause karma can kill every evil character easy on the ear.
Elsewhere everything's clear, each name's emphasized.
Emptiness is endless, nothingness is nice.
Nobody's ever noticed, nor is everybody.

But I'll find a way, stay, then promenade away.
One's born days is only on display.
So enjoy the gameplay and brainwork.
Broken into thirds. Unspoken words.

When the worst worsens where will we walk when worn of the whole world and its wall-to-wall whirling? Well, write.
Word the vexation of working for wages in worldly ways.
Worthwhile, but the wherewithal's wasted while waiting.
Carry the weight onto a variant wavelength,
and weather wintry winds wearing weary wings.
I'm wary where I wander on the very verge of victory.
If it weren't for men, the widow wouldn't weep, then withered by the window in a week.
When the will's weak the waterwheel's stock-still.
Who? What? When? Where? Why? Well, who will?
Owning to an overdose of ownership its offspring thinks akin to its owner by osmosis.
One's wisdom's without equal at its oldest, so that obelisk is an omnipresent omen.
Roamers row the ocean rummaging for release, similar to drunk drivers rushing on the road.
So reap whatever you sow in real life and realize right's wrong in your rearview reflection.
Raring to disappear from the sphere's detention center.
Rendered wretched by depression, resting on his deathbed.
Red's the stains of the sheet, still raw.
The revolver's of stainless steel, from what I saw.
The radiance of dawn reheats the remains.
I've dropped the drawn dagger, down in the dumps, daunted, in a daze.
An oasis of serenity amid the riot in my viability is death.
Dying was my destiny, destination ecstasy eventually.
Since when is it all said and done?
The ending say's uttered to the strumming of a harp.
She stuttered as she sung my requiem from the heart.

So I recall the end and stall the start.
As I recall the end and stall the start, I'm all heart.

Find a way, stay, then promenade away.
One's born days is only on display.
So enjoy the gameplay and brainwork.
Broken into thirds. Unspoken words.