Every morning's like a funeral procession- And we're the dead- Abysmal retrogression- How do you earn a living in a life you didn't ask for?- How do
served his country well When he went to fight the war And each letter from his lover He locked safely in a drawer Until a witch hunt of McCarthy style
As a result, bullets are sprayed and their sons are laid It's no myth, in ghetto life, if you don't fight you fade Surviving in the streets, not a
