| Here we go to church on Sunday mornin'
|
| Hangovers on 'em
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| Whiskey pourin' out of skin, it’s like a poison
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| Beer-soaked boots from the barroom floor
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| It’s perfume to a sinner, it’s allurin'
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| Prophet for the slums, prayer for the dark
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| Barber straight razor blade, pocket watch
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| Rings on every finger, sacrificial skin
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| Story written in his blood, he’s akin
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| To animals and criminals alike
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| Hood, project, trailer park, Backwoods
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| Sprinkles of the cocaine in his nails
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| Tank full of propane on the shelf
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| Fire’s in the soul, the child is now a man
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| The enemies of good now become a friend
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| Watchin' God play his life violin
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| Happily, an instrumental in the wind
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| You will never fit, you’re a misfit
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| You’re a quiet voice no matter how loud you get
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| Despite the effort, you remain reckless
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| You remain helpless in the same outfit
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| As your father did before, you’re a song
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| Better sing the praises of the written wrongs
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| Only time will kill your spirit if you let it fall
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| And that’s why there’s…
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| No time at all
|
| No time like now
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| To get on the road
|
| If you wanna get out
|
| You got to be true
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| True to yourself
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| Or you’ll be a fool
|
| To somebody else
|
| The rifle’s in the corner, money on the table
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| Cellophane sacks, baby’s in the cradle
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| Chevy’s in the drive, cranked and ready for him
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| Lights a cigarette, ashes on the floor
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| And takes another toke, smoke fills the room
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| Sun sets behind the clouds, heavy gloom
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| Cops on the run, sirens in the distance
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| Wild small town, violent and resistant
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| In the street, they rage and fight
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| Any given night, it’s just another reason for a killin'
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| Brave the cold and lock the door 'cause it’s war
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| Storm filled with crime, only safe in buildings
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| Made of brick and mortar, brick of thick morals
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| Ain’t got brick and mortar? |
| Steel will support 'em
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| Steel with the trigger finger, take your life
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| Billy in the basement, wasted, makin' pipe
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| Bombs take it light, wrong take it real
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| Take a quarter pound of dope and make a deal
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| Take the front, son, run for the hills
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| Cowards under power make sonic seals
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| Cast a shadow over underprivileged minds
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| While they’re chasin' money, hit some basic rhymes
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| If the world gives you pen and paper, draw the line
|
| Because there’s no time
|
| There’s no time at all
|
| No time like now
|
| To get on the road
|
| If you wanna get out
|
| You got to be true
|
| True to yourself
|
| Or you’ll be a fool
|
| To somebody else
|
| No time at all
|
| No time like now
|
| To get on the road
|
| If you wanna get out
|
| You got to be true
|
| True to yourself
|
| Or you’ll be a fool
|
| To somebody else |