For six weeks I had this job Cleaning the local hospital The pay was o.k. but I didn't like to swab so I changed it for a bass guitar to make some dreams come true
Like a street to a hustler, a face to the soul It's the one and the only place we control It's our reality, not just a poem It's the place that we call home
For some time I went to school tried to learn what's right and wrong I didn't like thier schemes I couldn't buy their rules so I went back to where I belong of that guitar and the bass The snare it sounds like gunfire it's like a thousand decibel punch in the face
East or was? well, home is the best! Though I sometimes feel like a clown But I've also ad the feeling. Yes! and that no one can bring me down!
Erase what's on your mind