1. Let me start with a statement saying words are inadequate.
Now I’ll throw a long stream of meager words after it.
Metaphors mixed into a thick gray paste
Without a single thought given to how they taste.
There’s an inverse relationship between being talkative
And the odds that you’ll ever say something provocative.
Writing off the sun in the span of one eclipse.
How do you scratch past the surface when your fingers have blunt tips?
Simon says a lot, never explains what he means.
It’s often imperceptible, but every tower leans.
Mnemonic devices we forgot to learn.
It’s in bad taste to crash and not burn.
I base my delusions on actual events.
I’d rather ask permission than mount a passionate defense.
You’ll be sporting your support of harsher rules
Like a heavy fur coat when your ardor cools.
Chorus: I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be a valid option.
I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be somewhat exposed.
I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be almost too nuanced.
I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be a man of multiple reasons.
I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be a graceful quitter.
I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be before my prime.
I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be lightly impeded.
I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be a man for at least two seasons.
2. I hate the game and the player and the played.
Embarrassed in the presence of a naysayer swayed.
So afraid of fear itself it’s like we’re allergic
To our own saliva. The analogy isn’t perfect.
We wouldn’t pause to examine every signpost
If we believed the Devil really takes the hindmost.
It’s a natural outcome of leading with the caveats
That your real message starts to feel like an afterthought.
Low-rent impressionists trying to play God,
But the fakeness of the beards betrays the fraud.
It takes too much effort to be the black sheep
Of the makeshift flock consigned to the scrap heap.
Trapped in endless debate about what is or isn’t possible,
Our own memories start to feel apocryphal.
A figure in a painting, both motionless and miniature,
Your face in part marred by the artist’s signature.
Chorus: I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be a tonal shifter.
I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be always excused.
I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be kind of decisive.
I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be a man of more than one action.
I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be amused forever.
I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be a mystery tool.
I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be considered harmless.
I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be…
credits
from Matchforcer 1: Pincer,
released September 16, 2015
The Mispronouncer made the beat, wrote the lyrics, and performed the vocals.
Sharp commentary, big hooks, and stunning melodies make the Minneapolis rapper, poet, and songwriter's latest solo LP a triumph. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 8, 2023