| They call me urban folk
|
| But I’m just poor and broke
|
| And I provoke the forms of thought more like a rapper
|
| But my thoughts far from divine
|
| Paint delusions in my mind
|
| As I walk around Northern London looking dapper
|
| I blaze a blunt of green
|
| While the days crawl up my spleen
|
| Existential rage I age the more I suffer
|
| And the rainstorms come and go
|
| With my pestilence in tow
|
| While the days forgo the noises that they buffer
|
| My woman said goodbye
|
| I felt that I could die
|
| But my debt was not done
|
| Death could be mistaken
|
| Cause I came home to dust
|
| And I drink it if I must
|
| If in the modern world
|
| Lust is all we’re chasing
|
| But I think that’s a lie
|
| Because that all that that implies
|
| Is that the eye of thought is fake
|
| And worth erasing
|
| And no withdrawing will be done
|
| When this all benefits the sun
|
| As the grays weigh in the lungs
|
| The wars they’re raging
|
| My job is just a con
|
| Where did it all go wrong?
|
| But the song is worth the silence
|
| Of my supper
|
| And if you ask me again
|
| If the pain was worth the pen
|
| I’d write the names of all my long lost lovers
|
| And if patience is a sin
|
| Then the devil let me in
|
| Tuned my strings and left me in the summer
|
| Cause godly fires being sown
|
| As I contemplate the tone
|
| Of the speech that leaks from Dionysis' brother
|
| But there’s contented weather
|
| In my hometown, my hometown
|
| With divided pleasures
|
| In my hometown, my hometown
|
| It’s survived the fires
|
| My hometown, my hometown
|
| There’s much to admire
|
| In my hometown, my hometown
|
| Survived the fires
|
| My hometown, my hometown
|
| There’s much to admire
|
| In my hometown, my hometown
|
| My hometown
|
| My hometown
|
| My hometown
|
| My hometown
|
| My hometown
|
| My hometown
|
| My hometown
|
| My hometown
|
| My hometown |