Quebonafide - Północ Południe

Verse 1
I’ve got Aces up my sleeve, but I still play Six of Hearts
And I still lack that class, though there’s dull jazz playing in the dark
Let’s think of all the problems that once were but now are gone
Of meaning, dreams, existence, and desires we dwell upon
Of purpose and of journey, and maybe ChatGPT
Wallets, cars, and babies, softly sleeping in their cribs
Or let’s just lose our minds now, throw on any random flick
Grab a jar of Nutella, and dip our lives in it

Chorus
In my head, it’s always shifting
Today I love it with my whole brain
All the baggage I’ve been lifting
Where I’ll take it, what will remain
In my head there lives a whisper
I won’t silence it again
Sometimes it sings a lovely shimmer
Sometimes monkeys bang on pans
In my head, it’s always shifting
Yesterday was north, today is south
I craved complete control so badly
Now I see it’s just self-doubt
In my head there lives a porter
I’ve no plans to let him go
Sometimes he unlocks the garden
Sometimes slams the gate on hope

Bridge 1
The shop is closed today
The shop is closed today
The shop is closed today

Verse 2
Is there purpose in this madness? Is there someone with a plan?
Where are these legs now heading? I might never understand
Let’s ponder on careers, and praise of democracy
On what I now believe in — and am I wrong again, maybe?
On war and on existence, just like we used to do
The ceiling’s out of balance ’cause someone screwed the drywall too
Or think of all the chaos, the weather, or Sanah’s song
What should I do right now — and what’s the trade-off all along?

Chorus
In my head, it’s always shifting
Yesterday was north, today is south
I craved complete control so badly
Now I see it’s just self-doubt
In my head there lives a porter
I’ve no plans to let him go
Sometimes he locks the little gate
Sometimes he opens up the show

Bridge 2
The shop is open now
The shop is open now
The shop is open now
The shop is open now

Chorus
In my head, it’s always shifting
Today I love it with my whole brain
All the baggage I’ve been lifting
Where I’ll take it, what will remain
In my head there lives a whisper
I won’t silence it again
Sometimes it sings a lovely shimmer
Sometimes monkeys bang on pans