Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Neighborhood Walk, artist - Wax.
Date of issue: 07.10.2021
Song language: English
Neighborhood Walk |
I was visiting my dad in the state of MD |
We’re sittin' on the couch watching AMC |
He’s still at the house in which he raised me |
Still spends most of his time watching TV |
An old western or a musical with Fred Astaire |
Every commercial they’re talkin' about Medicare |
JJ from Good Times is the spokesman |
I wonder how much cash it took |
For them to coax him into doin' it |
Times change, people age |
Both in real life and on the airwaves |
I got up off the couch, walked out the front door |
My old neighborhood I had an urge to explore |
Up the driveway to the cul de sac |
Took a look around and it all came back |
Nostalgia ran through me and it tickled my soul |
Took a deep breath and embarked on a stroll |
A long time resident sees me and waves |
From his driveway, I remember the day it was paved |
The asphalt is cracking at a similar rate |
And in a similar design as the lines on his face |
He said his wife had passed and he asked me to pardon him |
For the unkempt state that his yard was in |
See, he kept the grass cut be she had done the gardenin' |
The large amount of weeds told the story of how hard it’s been |
«T was nice talkin' |
To you,» I told him then I kept on walkin' |
The next house down was very familiar |
A memory played in my brain with an old movie filter |
A scene of when my childhood friend lived there |
I see the old couch, the old tables and chair |
I see my friend as a child, his mother and his siblings |
A family from the past that once really existed |
If I had dreamt it all it wouldn’t be much different |
I pass by several houses in a row |
Each one reminds me of a person I know |
The rental property where they just let the weeds grow |
Is like my homie Matt who kinda let himself go |
Shutters, shingles, siding and bricks |
Some are like new, some really need to be fixed |
Normal wear and tear as a house gets older |
That squeaky sliding door kinda reminds me of my shoulder |
A teenage kid drives by way too fast |
Rebellious music of his generation on blast |
Very reminiscent of myself of the past |
The drums are more trappy but the rap’s just as crass |
Miles after miles my childhood is embedded in everything that I pass |
The green street signs may be startin' to rust |
But the grass is the same shade of green, it’s lush |
It compliments the yellow on the passing school bus |
As it slows down out the red stop sign juts |
And the door of the bus is like my tear ducts |
My eyes water up and out the kids jump |
Each hit the street as the tears hit my cheeks |
I can’t explain why it makes me cry, I’m just weak |
The sun starts droppin', the sky gets less bright |
The streetlights all start to light |
Pretty soon I’ll be in the streetlight stage of my life |
Where I start headin' home and day turns to night |
I won’t be around but this neighborhood might |
Along with this song I was able to write |
That walk built me up quite a healthy appetite |
I’m so lucky I get to have dinner with my dad tonight |