This is a song about "Left bench"

I'm still, just like a kid, lookin for stripes on my belt

Never gotta wonder you're right, i left

Left, right, left, i've just gotta keep walking.

You keep praying on your break, i hope you got a sling

He had is tolls on the bench, a paper and pen.

Given her the tlc i'll never creep then

Be the little kid crying on the bench

What time is it, huh? check my french

And i'm left for the corrections,

They bringing me fish and chips

'cause she must be racing and pacing and patiently waiting by the bench and the chair

Come on over to the scene, grab a table, let me take a look at that there

So i grab her by the hands and hold her down to the bench

Fuckin' with my people well that's called the heath ledge