At the firefly we all tell lies
And the cleanup kid hangs his head, he's the quiet type
Came to la to write but he never made it out of the fringes
Keeps a low profile you kick him, he'll smile
Thinks blood is his payment for losing
While me I'm hiding here
Pretending that my mind is clear
A rock for the forgotten but when I pour they smile
And say to me that I'm a rock for the forgotten
A bottle got broke in a fight over dope
And the mean old man washed his hands
All the troubles he's seen, seems like a dream
While he washes away his sorrow
But either way I can tell that he prays
There will never be another tomorrow
While me, I never change, I try to keep things just the same
A rock for the forgotten and when I pour their smiles
Say to me that I'm a rock for the forgotten
Maybe they'll come alive
See the soapbox man is at it again
And the girls pass by avoiding his eye
He's the best there is in the hellfire biz
A black belt in the art of babble came from Vera Cruz
When a bottle of booze told him he had to rouse the rabble
While me I'm hiding here
Pretending that my mind is clear
A rock for the forgotten but when I pour they smile
And say to me that I'm a rock for the forgotten
Maybe they'll come alive
Artist: Time In Malta
Artist: King Curtis
Artist: Nat Stuckey
Artist: Ice Cube