Bow your heads-i see the lines of my beaten artist hearses.
At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses
Penetratin' the game on its cervix is my service
I'm the kind of kid whose main purpose is to shake earth's surface
'cause it was an admired service-man
So i refuse to follow in the same steps as my old man.
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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