Lyrics:
the mic again, try to hand it back,
'Cause every rapper that comes, I cut off his thumbs,
Put a record to his neck, if he swallows it hums!
Slice from
the mic again, try to hand it back,
'Cause every rapper that comes, I cut off his thumbs,
Put a record to his neck, if he swallows it hums!
Slice from
he'd say grace and hold our juice aloft.
Oh, none of us knew his checkout time would come so soon,
But before his brain stopped waving, he composed this
hands he on his knees it's for a miracle he pray
Tear a family apart he looked a mother in the face
Lie a little tell his mommy that you found him by
hands
He on his knees
It's for a miracle he pray
Tear a family apart, he looked a mother in the face
Lie a little, tell his mommy that you found him by
That makes things worse
Now he's just breathing he can barely manage
And he's way past starvin
He's really famished
His right-hand man is up north,
and a wonderin'
Daddy took me by the hand
Looked out at the world and his grown man and said
"Don't worry boy it'll be all right"
'Cause I took this walk
ev'ry hand's a loser.
"And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep.
"You got to know when to hold 'em; know when to fold 'em.
"Know
were
By the way they held their eyes
So if you don't mind me sayin'
I can see you're out of aces
For a taste of your whiskey
I'll give you some advice"
entertained
By mending thoughts of pain
Like headdiving into flames
Like a cut on his arm
Like a burn on his hand
Like two rocks squish his heart
Like
and I think you're hangin' from a ledge
Too scared to hold the hand that wants to help you up
Are you the man you thought you'd be by the time that you
riding with firearms cocked
Fire bomb box, set up by your mom's block
Go off on time, 'cause it's wired by alarm clock
I get his legs, you grab him by
hold my hand, keep me safe from the shadow
Don't leave me cold, bring me back to the meadow
Don't let me go alone
Mother, there's a darkness coming
standing blindfolded before a
Firing squad hamsun eating his own
Flesh harry Crosby commiting
Suicide hand in hand with his whore
Tchaikovsky trying to
Evade
victims of typewriters
The band sounds like typewriters
The big man he's not listening
His eyes hold Edith
His left hand holds his right
What does that
His name I cannot kill
Shepherd, my Lord, my Father, my best friend
Shepherd, always hold me by the hand
Shepherd, my Lord, my Father, my best friend
desk and
Help me with my problem, it was never much
Just a trick, to smell her scent and try to sneak a touch
Oh, how I wish I could hold her hand
desk and
Help me with my problem, it was never much
Just a trick, to smell her scent and try to sneak a touch
Oh, how I wish I could hold her hand
an angel intercedes on behalf of someone
To say this man has done no wrong, then God will hold His judgement
His grace will be to hold back death, because
looks up instead
Til he finds someone else is by his side
You're my north star in the night sky
Everything's fine when you hold me tight
When I'm so far,
on yeah
Grace
Grace and mercy
Mercy
Yeah
I was saved from the streets by his grace and mercy
Out there doing my own thing but somebody prayed for me
Sin
a drink in his hand and his jeans all turned up
I took a ride from a guy and his girlfriend cried when my gun went off
And I'd turn suicidal if it meant
Morehouse
An angel holds a vigil
Always keeps you in his sight
Johnny Morehouse
Johnny Morehouse
Are you both running free
Through the trees
In the pale
surrounded by his books
A serious, lonely and sad old man whose youth has passed him by
And Jim and Will conspire
To ride the carousel
Could set their souls
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