Cover art for Cold by Serengeti

Cold

Serengeti
Track 8 on C.A.R. 
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Cold Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Never go to work, everything messy
Ashes everywhere, giant cans of Pepsi
Constant updates, the van needs brakes
Everything is great, stolen license plates
Dandruff everywhere, kids got colds
Dishes in the sink, place smells like molds
Live inside cable, fantasize about moves
Enter your 30’s, still wearing Jerseys
Need to do burpees, take more showers
Get yourself together, assume a spirit power
Maybe it's a raven, maybe need prestique
Same conversation, the same long weeks

[Verse 2]
I want a simple life, where we milk cows and cobras
Coral snakes, soufflés of the lightest cakes
Moonlightning, stationed exercise biking
The same qualities found in the common Viking
Floyd, similar to the singer Lloyd
The fang of the cobra and the morning avoid
They’re just kin called Roys and The Donovan Boys
All six of them, exotic like British men
I’m like, fellas, you could have won a Tony
We could have been brothers like Josiah and Yoni
There’s so much room, beautiful purple flowers bloom
Check me out, man, I’ll be over soon
The detective skills of Dolph Lundgren, L.A.’s never been more safe
The great escape is tougher, like having a family complicates
Look on the bright side
There’s many things to be happy for
Like living in Los Angeles with a unlocked door
That's what you pay Dolph for
Beaver coats, pretty walls, snow atop a house for birds
A total loss for use of words, to shave your lamb, that shit was cold
The weight of snow on naked trees, the weight of giving up a dream
Settle down into the soil, sprout another dream tutorial
Grubby criminals versus the fire department, I followed them to the apartment, sergeant
Axes out, we're positioned on sixth floor, hoses up the staircase, aimed at their front door
We got ‘em, those bastards won’t know what hit ‘em
Chalk one up for the good guys, we got ‘em, captain
[Verse 3]
Hey, marry into royalty, become a duke
Make your buddies puke, ‘cause you've joined a new social loop
Involving velvet, couplets, and little bells
Go to hell, suckers, enjoy livin' at your brothers'
And your covers smell like rubber
Sleeping bags, and cover's old
Walkin' to your car cold
I’m children's choirs and gray tea old

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    Chill
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