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MP3 2.6 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
Come see me and the place I live in... You'll see what I'm talkin' about...
Lyrics
Seems like I'm stuck in hell for the rest of my time. never famous, known or get my head pressed on a dime.
This is my city, my home, my doom, my throne. no pleasure no friends, no news, just alone.
wintertime is colder than my uncles wife. twenty years old I'm not ment for cold life.
No wonder why some kids around here obeys night. At winter you can't blink, you might miss the daylight.
It's eight hours sleep and sixteen hours of boredom. There's tickets outta here, but god knows I can't afford them
Some people woulda said I'm better off in this place. No drugs no criminals no sign of drama in my days.
Take bad in with good instead of nothing at all. Don't wanna waste my life up till my coffin' lid falls.
Isolated from the world with flaws and benefits. can't blame it all on others cause I know I've been a twit.
I've had opportunities to leave this community back when I hit puberty i left the immunity.
I know I coulda shoulda, I know I woulda cared more. If I kept on rowin', I'd be gone from the shore.
How am I supposed to live without a life How am I supposed to cut through without a knife.
How can I be enlightened when there is no light. How am I supposed to see when everything is outta sight.
The few cats that I'm cool with don't live here anymore. They all got a job, packed up and out the door.
This village lookin' place don't even have a hot chick. It's wore out more souls than the New York Knicks.
My blood is boilin' over, damn near about to peak. Somethin' better cool me off before my vains spring a leak.
Losin' faith in a heartbeat when this knife and my heart meets. I hope the pain leaves and I head for the starstreets
Please help me on this, help me spill out my gore. Grab a sword and stab me, leave me pinned to the floor.
I'm one of a million other sick and twisted caucasians. Mind filled with illness in need of medication.
If I had some drugs, time would be simpler to kill. A little blunt each day would leave my life more filled.
But I got no pot, opium, blow or nyquill. This place is so cold, can't even grow it myself.
So I'm stuck here by myself with nothing funny to do. What is sadness in my eyes probly seems funny to you.
I'll climb up a tree, fall down and break my face. Cause nothing else happens in this godforsaken place.
I know It's damn pathetic to wallow in self pity. But this is hardly a home and fuckin' far from a city.
How am I supposed to live without a life How am I supposed to cut through without a knife.
How can I be enlightened when there is no light. How can this not be wrong when nothing left is right.
