Hell at Home Written by: Jim J. Barakat On my trip, on my time; I’ve seen some things that I never knew existed. They frighten me to death; I think I’m losing my mind, or am I just losing her at one remarkable speed? So I move along my way and right down this path where this guy pulled me to the side and asked if I knew which way hell was, so I just smiled then I laughed, and pointed west to Chicago. That’s where hell be at… Let the streets engulf you; have those buildings come crumbling down. Causing mayhem for the mayor; have that shit look like dirt. Let the sidewalks burn you and have the gangways agree that there’s some garbage in the alley where I’m meeting her tonight. It could make you do some crazy things; I won’t argue with that. But there are some things you just don’t fuck with and I’ve taught myself this lesson. Busting through the gates right into the parks; watch your skin start to melt, then there’ll be no question as to where you’re at. It’s taking my time; it’s consuming my life. You need to stop your games and let me take charge. Trust me baby this won’t hurt. But you may feel it in the morning when you remove yourself from my bed. Name everyone you trust and write it down on paper, then burn that bitch up until there’s nothing but cinder. I’m telling you kid this is for the best. It’ll save you that heartache and you won’t be depressed. Yes this city has been nice and this city has been kind but its nights like last night where I wish it’d just die. I hate driving back into it and I can’t stand that sickly smell. Like I hate seeing her pretty face, and I hate it even more when she sees mine. It’s taking my time; it’s consuming my life. You need to stop your games and let me take charge. Trust me baby this won’t hurt. But you may feel it in the morning when I try to remove you from my head. ©2008
