We touch the walls of a city streets, and didn't explain,
Sadly showed us our ways
Of never asking why.
Cast down, It was heaven sent and
To the church, no intent to repent on my knees
Just to cry.
Until you travel to that place you can't come back,
Where the last pain is gone and all that's left is black.
Bright nights cease coming to me and,
Some day, they'll punish my deeds and they'll find
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All the crimes.
But then they ask when they going to see them
Then they're going to ask to feel the ghosts, the walls, the dreams
Oh, I've got mine.
At last those coming came and they never looked back.
With blinding stars in their eyes, but all they saw was black.
Fooled them, hoping to seem like the sweat of evil, (?)
But the product of greed, and
It's not a mask, so be honest with me
They can't afford to ignore that I'm a disease.
Photos
Practical, since we had to be, and
When they were old they came back to me and they tried, oh they tried.
And when you follow through and wind up on your back,
Looking at up no stars in the sky, those white clouds have turned it black.
Artist: Herbie Mann
Artist: Public Enemy
Artist: The Conells