back in town just passing through Catching up with friends we knew for old times sake In a crowded lunch time bar I turn around and there you are Face to face
back do trash Rearview in the past, never lived to see it coming They know I'm in the swap when the crowd start running I'm carried by the Ferros, new home
me off to the people in the crowd man I like big thangs Take me out to the ball game, spend no small change Now show me off to the people in the crowd
The fog rolls in like the thickest cream Nightfall comes and the crickets scream Deafened by the latest lotto ticket schemes Cement lies and white picket dreams The pain on his face
's been snowing Even though some might disagree When business is still slowing Even if we subject to change Come up out them diamonds and rings Even all them dollars and change Nigga we home-grown
fold your punctured proof The air is growing cold and there's nothing you can do Soon there'll be no gauze, inside the confessional Only rows of crows
t bend your crooked arms or fold your punctured proof The air is growing cold and there's nothing you can do Soon there'll be no gauze, inside the confessional Only rows of crows
your crooked arms or fold your punctured proof the air is growing cold and there's nothing you can do Soon there'll be no gauze inside the confessional only rows of crows
face in the room. oh the gravity of the spinning ground slows the growing legend in this house surrounds the night, closing in like a crowd in gossip
it down while your record still floppin' Caught 'em at the club, say it to my face Better calm your manners 'cause I'm about to catch a case I'm a grown
talk and talk and They talk and talk and talk and, talk and talk and "This is how the story goes" The argument is gettin louder and louder A crowd of
I've been trying all my life to get to Heaven But awoke in the eye of a storm But I shall rise from the ashes Grow from the ruins And return back home Back home
'm breaking down the weed, put it in the bong blow a hundred racks, put it in the song party every weekend, hardly ever home don't see me face to face
be a fanatic Could be a terrorist Could be a dentist Could be a psychiatrist Could be humble Could be proud Could be a face in the crowd Could be the
fucked up. And feeling shitty. But at least they got each other tonight. They feel this town as they spin around. Together alone. In the middle of the crowd. They ain't going home
just a figment of What I recall of yesterday's love Has anybody seen amy anymore You can feel your age when you face the fact You can always go home
so I don't care about em lagging in their way Oh, the principles of power Grow balanced every year Though I may not survive, it's the next man For whom the crowd
strong blows to the heads of my foes Dread flows, gives me power as it grows Watch how rass cladda, you catch the speed knot Heed not an' Hell will be your home
