it was the summer of 95 (so what?) in the backyard shaving the old plies.
feeling so strong. something went wrong. straight into my finger what a
stinger it was so long. i still remember that day like the day that i said
that i swear "i'll never hurt myself again" but it seems that i'm deemed to be
wrong to be wrong to be wrong so i've got to keep holding on... they always
played a slow song.when they come for me i'll be sitting at my desk with a gun
in my hand wearing a bulletproof vest singing my my my how the time does fly
when you know you're going to die by the end of the night. i still remember
when we were young and fragile then. no one gave a shit about us because times
were tougher then. feeling so good. cruising the hood. straight into the real
world rich kids never understood. but i don't care i can fade away to anywhere
don't stop because you might get dropped and if you do who's going to pick you
up well i won't. well tell i won't... they always played a slow song