John Reuben - Pataskala Lyrics

Bright and early in the morning and my day's on track
Hot coffee in the kitchen? Okay, I'll take it black
66 degrees with a comfortable breeze
I guess every now and then you get days like these

And I'm thankful, hit the city streets grateful
We're livin' life to the upmost while we're young and able
While others fable about where they come from
We got nothing to hide, we're far from stardom

P A T A S K A L A, O H I O

P A
(P A)
T A
(T A)
S K
(S K)
A L A

P A T A S K A L A, O H I O

P A
(P A)
T A
(T A)
S K
(S K)
A L A

We never did anything in that place, just waste time
Talkin' about what we'd do if givin' the chance to
You know, stupid things that we never live out
It sure was cool for a moment to think about

You could say just an innocent exaggeration
Just some young adults have fun, by imagination
But somehow we stretched ourselves and started livin' it
Life is funny sometimes, isn't it?

We're in the sky on the plane over European terrain
Lookin' down to the ground we watched the earth change
At night in the car over looked by afar
Thinkin' to ourselves, none of this is really ours

Perspective changes, we could never claim this
Life, Yahweh spoke and showed us what our aim is
Something that wasn't alive by heartbeat and breath
And something that's not left with bone and flesh

P A T A S K A L A, O H I O

P A
(P A)
T A
(T A)
S K
(S K)
A L A

Life is too short, too sweat the minimal
And things that once seemed simple now seem valuble
Like the simple satisfaction of being content
And the simple satisfaction in the time we spent

I value everything our friendship meant
Even though you never paid me back the money I lent
Speakin' of which, the other day, your mom I saw her
I had to tell her Scott Bellows still owed me 50 dollars

This one goes out to the one we know
From Kid Flow to Fourth Avenue
Mr. Scott Bellows

This one goes out to the one we know
From Kid Flow to Fourth Avenue
Mr. Scott Bellows

I'm wantin' all heads to break up, open ears to listen
Scott Bellows is the fellow with the grand design and 'vention
Reuben asked me to throw in a twenty second verse
I have a rhyme and some time, but oh well, what could it hurt?

Out of style, out of practice, out of touch and out of taste
I started thinkin' to the days of the showcase
So I set off to explorer the store of lyrics in my head
But for hours I got nothin', and I wrote this instead