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Artist/Band: Atmosphere
Lyrics for Song: Cats Van Bags
Lyrics for Album: Seven's Travels [2003]



(Slug)

We're travellin' a missile

Weavin' through your cornfields

Leaving behind a trail of ameteur porn and orange peels

Navigating through this basement

that masquerades as a nation

Practicing my acetate masturbation

Watching the expressions on the faces

of the ones designated to be the queens, kings, and aces

How many miles can you put on one soul

before the smile starts to blend into one big bullet hole?



(Brother Ali)

Shoot through it as a unit with the best of my crew

Pumpin' melodies and memories too

My head's killin' me (ew)

Stomach empty, my bladder is full

Two year old son with Jaybird

Phone dry and missing me (?)

And I'm starvin' I'll bite your arm off

Saber tooth tiger, run the night with the sharp claws

In your back yard just to fuck with your gaurd dogs

Throw a brick through your shit, come cut the alarm off



(Slug)

Fuck yes

I do my best to take advantage in bouts

Put one hand over the mouth

Still managing to shout

Theres more said within the lines of your forehead

Then they could ever try to fineprint on the inside of that warhead

Cross Country

Like a little lost junkie

Make 'em hot and jumpy

Trying to get that God money

Steering the van through the blizzards, the fanfare

Pivot when we visit

Spit victim if you stand there



(Brother Ali)

Check your map of this picture, throw a dart at it

That's where

We took a room back for the kids and through a heart at it

Angry like a hostage

Kickin' like a little bitch in one of Dibbs' moshpits

Shifting through your city limits, trying to find the raw shit

Thread a needle with it and weave a world of heads together

'Til we get em carsick

Face full of war paint, strapped ready for action

Battle cry just trying to seek the satisfaction of the captain (?)



(Slug)

Climbed over the side, closed his eyes

Took a dive into his famed inspiration for staying alive

Swam to the shore

Stepped upon land

Walked up to a whore

Grabbed her by the hand and said



Hook:

Let the wheels spin, Let the room shake, Let the speakers blow

Let the light in, Let the kids play, Let the people know

Let the roof burn, Let the girls love, Let the heat flow

Let the world turn, Let the curbs up, Cats Van Bags Yo!



(Brother Ali)

Lock eyes with a thousand people at the same time

They mind believe in us

My style of graffiti is

Reason just the midwest sweat out of my shirt

And leavin' with my life essence imbedded in your dirt



(Slug)

We work move and hustle with the rest of the gypsies

Spoon feed these issues to a new school of fishies

Swimmin' through a hazy shade of passion

Here they come, the hazled and has been'd

and his chaplin



(Brother Ali)

Thats them the migrant seasonal workers

The finest imperial wordsmiths on the circuit

two million smiles and runnin'

Stompin' tryin to flee the heat

Turn around shootin' at the monster 'til he's knees are weak



(Slug)

They call me Jesus Freak

I came to listen

Then I save you

Then I make you my favorite position

Chasing this pidgeon down the street towards the banks

Just in case my my traffic recieves Jeeps and tanks



(Both)

And we wander through this soul

So let it be known

Mama I dont know if I'm a ever be home

The revolution wont have any distribution

(Slug)

I love my son and my music so I gotta keep it movin like



Hook


Album Lyrics: Seven's Travels [2003]


Atmosphere
"Seven's Travels [2003]"


1. History
2. Trying To Find A Balance
3. Bird Sings Why The Caged I Know
4. Reflections
5. Gotta Lotta Walls
6. Apple
7. Suicidegirls
8. Jason
9. Cats Van Bags
10. Los Angeles
11. Lift Her Pull Her
12. Shoes
13. National Disgrace
14. Denvenmolorado
15. Liquor Lyles Cool July
16. Good Times (Sick Pimpin')
17. In My Continental
18. Always Coming Back Home To You