Vem bryr sig om dom som inte syns?
Var går alla hemlösa, narkomaner och alkoholister?
Ser ni dom? Vet ni vad som händer i den världen?
Om ni skulle veta, skulle ni inte såva på natten...
His father died, never knew him to shield him from the rain
Starting shooting heroin at fourteen to numb the pain
Track marks similar to tattoos tell the story of a sad fool
Tragic monologue of a man who became a victim of half-truths and whispered secrets
His own inner-demons, syringes and lesions
Crack pipes and binges for weekends
Led to benders and blackouts that last for seasons
For no apparent reasons, never had children
He was a child in a man’s body
Found joy in the thrill of the streets and crack parties
Robbing drug dealers, selling dope, selling soap
Locked in the belly of the beast where the felons roam
Gift of gab, quick-witted with the clever soul
Couldn’t keep him from catching a buck-fifty in his dome
Matter fact, more like 250, too shifty
His name was Howie but on Rikers Island he was just
'
Time and time again as I pick up the pen
As my thoughts emerge these are those words
I glance at the paper to know what’s going on
Someone’s doing wrong, the story goes on
As my thoughts emerge these are those words
I glance at the paper to know what’s going on
Someone’s doing wrong, the story goes on
A lot of stuff happens that the news won’t tell yous
Loose all L juice, snooze all hell loose
State of the slums, kill four, play the drums
Fake ones, they’re coarse with smiles and snake tongues
Loose all L juice, snooze all hell loose
State of the slums, kill four, play the drums
Fake ones, they’re coarse with smiles and snake tongues
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