I stand accused Of lovin' you too much And I hope, I hope it's not a crime 'Cause if it is, I'm guilty Of lovin' you, you, you I, I hope to God That
I just wrote the dumbest song. It's gonna be a sing along. All our friends will clap and sing. Our enemies will laugh and be pointing. It won't bother
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo This is for only certain people (Word up) This is for all my peoples in the struggle All my people's in jail, all my people
I kind of knew she would be Waiting for me in her room With a sick smile, she told me not to be a fool Her eyes went hard Staring right into my brain
how you gona say you wana talk turn around and put your hands all in my face you need to calm down screamin n cussin n goin off claimin i wasnt where
The father of lies coming to steal, kill and destroy All my hopes of being good enough I hear him saying, "Cursed are the ones who can't abide" He's
[Theme: Jeanne D' Arc / France] Maid of Orleans and Pucelle where the names Six hundred years ago Godly voices directed your aim The seventh awaits
Let's impeach the President for lying And it's leading our country into war Abusing all the power that we gave him And shipping all our money out the
Get 'em, uh, what, what, say fuck the cops nigga Fuck the cops nigga thugged out what get 'em Juvenile as a child but goin' to the pen as men Either
[Originally recorded by The Who at Pye Studios, London in October 1966] Look, he's crawling up my wall Black and hairy, very small Now he's up above
You got this habit you just can't shake There's not much more your body can take So you jab that needle in your vein Another load of dirt for your brain
You're the filthy creature Crouched in the shadows Of a street light Hunched over your catch Shit, she's barely alive Blood dried up and caked in her
[no lyrics published in the booklet]
On doorsteps and in alleyways I see these fools passed out At any time of the day Crashed out in a bed of piss Empty bottle cradled in their arms. So
A heavy rain is pouring down Upon the mourners gathered at your grave Heads bowed in deadly silence As the priest recites your eulogy Pounding nails
In 1989 in New York city alone 140 youths under the age of 18 Were gunned down Gunned down Bullet ridden bodies The streets are the new battle fields
You say you're living an empty life Your days filled with nothing but misery and strife Nobody to call your own as you're slowly wasting away In this
Alive among the lifeless How many of us still survive? Stranded in this hell Cursed by the walking dead There's not much time left now The sun has already