Buck 65 - Gee Whiz Lyrics
Tell me what is it is, Gee Whiz, I don't think I know.Well, believe me I've tried but there's no explaining,Eyes piled up you look like a painting,Saintly and sexy, the soft-spoken wind blows,Uncertain curtains cover broken windows,In desperate need of a safe haven and inflamed,A walk around Paris, unshaven and ashamed,20 odd years since last time I slow danced,Teenage crisis and the end of romance,I see myself in the form of a wolf,Furry, down on all fours and worried,Uneven colours and the echoes of fly tonesConnections I've lose and the collection of jawbonesApples or oranges, you decide which,I'm writing graffiti on suicide bridgeI once knew a women who was clever and toughWho said too much make up was never enoughHer eyelids were heavy with words and desireShe lives underwater with the birds and the fireIt just so happens I’m selling my psycheIf you like love you’ll love this, most likelyYou and me are meant to be, that's right i love you, can't you see, whatever partner you do choose, you have the ability to marry,6, 7, 8, i'll never hurt you, you know.Husbands love their wives,yeah, love the woman,part of me is here with you, one life, where my heart beats for you,well, here we are again,here's a couple, treacherousI'm impatient in relationships in and lovewhen will you see quand allez-vous me voirTell me what is it is, Gee Whiz, I don't think I know.Bird girls, sorry I’m too sleepy to makeThe sounds of my dreams always keep me awakeDon’t wanna scare the birds away so I speak softMemories like the shows of Vanessa BeecroftHer bedroom philosophies are so perplexingBut I think these two wooden legs are so sexyCries of sadness, spectacular You be Rossi de Palma and I’ll be your Dracula Fist is of agony decorate the last roomShoes by the door, on the floor is your costumeOpen the trunk with the car key the odd wayLove songs, call me the marquee, the chardayLord of the files, you lost me I wonder how Midnight meet me at the entrance for the undergroundSo many questions, but I’m afraid to askSo I whisper them to apollinaire by PicassoI touch all the flowers and break the chainI wish I could fly, but I’d rather take the trainAnd it just so happens I’m selling my psycheIf you like love you’ll love thisYou wouldn’t tell me what it was becauseI don’t think you know
