Deesa - Fighting Fish lyrics

rate me

Swimming in a swifter

Pretty as a picture

Don’t get it twisted, man, her bite is a bitch

You can name, you can keep her

But take care when you feed her

You never can take the fight out of the fish

Chomping at the drill bit

Never one to still sit

You can test my metal with a magnet and some tin snips

Ink test, all I see is canines and some wing tips

Pilot pen in pocket, I’m riding instinct and inkjets

Around here we don’t like talk of big dreams

To stand out is a pride, a conceit

To aim high is to make waves, to split seams

But that’s not what it seems like to me ‘cause

I wanna try, I wanna risk

And I don’t wanna walk, rather swing and miss

I’m not above apologies

But I don’t ask permission

Got a lot of imperfections

But I don’t count my ambition in ‘em

Zeno’s arrow

Never hits the mark

It’s always

Hanging there over its shadow

Safe from battle

Waste of archer’s time and trouble

Waste of effort

Waste of parts

If you don’t aim for the center

It’s a waste of the art

I didn’t come looking for love

I didn’t come to pick a fight

I didn’t come to wave or take pictures

Pander to some benefactor, ring on every broken finger

Won’t extend my wings to be clipped

I know the culture here is to stay humble but shit

If we all go round bowed heads, button-lipped

If none of us go for the bell, then who is?

My mother says I’ve loved too many men

But I took and left something in every single bed

The rook can look left, right, just turns his head

But the knight might rise up, investigate the grid

Gender, genre

Guess I’m on one bent both

Just the constructs of the old word

Gone broke

Women, children

Let me tell you

I’ve been both

And it’s a myth, we all swim for the life boats

I didn’t come looking for love

I didn’t come to pick a fight

I come here every night to work

And you can grab an axe, man,

Or you can step aside

Zeno’s arrow

Never hits the mark

It’s always

Hanging there over its shadow

Safe from battle

Waste of archer’s time and trouble

Waste of effort

Waste of parts

If you don’t aim for the center

It’s a waste of the art

Self-taught, self-made, bet, self-styled

Self-saw, self-came, self-took island of converts

To conquer is old school

We march ‘em in converse

Just armed with their own tools

While my knees still flex

While my joints hold steady

Mind sharp, spine straight, Chucks laced ready

I travel by kite

Travel light, at touch down

I swallow the dice

I make my own luck now

Zeno’s arrow never

Hits the mark

It’s always hanging there

Over its own

Shadow in the dark

Its own shadow in the dark