| Sometimes, when they visit, I wonder, «Can they hear me?»
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| I’m scratching at the box and screaming out quite clearly
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| I’m so lonely, my one and only probably took another
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| That means new daddy and same mother for my babies, before they grown ladies
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| I hope they remember me when they old ladies with their own babies
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| Carry my memory until it fades away
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| My mother came to visit me yesterday on my birthday
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| She laid a single rose on my head stone and said
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| «It ain’t been easy trying to get along since you’ve passed on»
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| I hear it momma, it’s been real turmoil
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| I’ve been scratching all month, trying to hit top soil
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| I’ve been working real hard, but my body feels weak
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| Well I can’t die, I’m just too awake to fall asleep
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| Tell 'em all that I miss them and send it with all my love
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| Sincerely from the underground, to all of the above
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| Shed tears for me
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| How long
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| They’ve been praying for me
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| Also, I’m sending love to all of the above
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| I gotta whisper to me, we’re all alone in a place
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| I’m underground and I’m surrounded by grace
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| And all the faith in my existence, see
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| Lives on and the face of my seed
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| And I can see it when he visits me
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| But I’m a father of the ground now
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| Family to the earth and I’m sorry that I’m gone now
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| Kiss your mother on the cheek
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| And tell her I understand why she still don’t speak
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| Even though I’m in this coffin I get haunted by the streets
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| And the sounds of bloody murder roam the night that I freaked out
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| Now its peace out cause I pulled the piece out
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| Put it in my mouth and blew my motherfucking teeth out
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| I reached out but nobody reached back
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| And no, it’s not an excuse, but it’s the reason that I’m trapped (inside here)
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| And everything is black and hard to breathe
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| Exactly like the life that I was trying to leave
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| You know I hate to see a grown man cry
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| Sometimes my homies stop by
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| They’re smoking joints to get me high in spirit
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| If they could only know that I hear it
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| When they cough, hear em when they talk
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| And scream for them to stay every time they get ready to take off
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| Peace ya’ll, bring a shovel next time
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| Cause it’s cold down here and this dirt is a thick line
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| Between life and death, it appears I have nothing left
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| But the person never forgets just like a ghost in transit
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| I watch 'em move like bandits when they rob my corpse
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| And then they left me on the porch as a prep for the divorce
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| And now I’m back in a black bag on a gurney at the morgue
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| On a flat slab, hoping the journey will bring me home, isn’t that sad?
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| Then I won’t say no more
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| And let you think about me every time you hear this flow
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| They put me back in my coffin and they lowered me down
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| And ever since then, it seems like nobody’ll come around |