exibições 127

Caught Without An Umbrella


I need a reason to get up
Before i wash my face
The junkies the hookers the dealers the place
Kickin' off my covers
Trippin' off the fact
That i haven't called my gramma in a long long time
Standin in the shower
For almost half an hour
Tryin' to wake up
And i'm lookin for the power
Reachin' for the towel
With soap in my eyes
Dryin' off my shoulders
My chest and my thighs
The next thing i know
The telephone rings
I hear my own voice
On the answering machine
Please leave a message
I'm glad ya called
I listen for a voice
But there's nothin' at all
Man oh man
I gotta kick the blues
And pay respect where respect is due
All praises to god the one i return to
The one i can turn to
When i'm feelin burned to the bone

Early in the morn
Before i wash my face
The bed is still warm but there's an empty space
Easrly in the morn
Before i wash my face
A hundred thousand miles is a lonely place

At six in the morning
She rolled outa bed
Stared out the window
And then she said
That i wasn't her type...
I think she's runnin outa types though...and i told her so.
She picked up her things and walked through the door
And then said that she couldn't see me no more
Just as she was leaving
I asked her if she'd call
She didn't look back
Said nuttin at all
I didn't change my clothes
Because they smell like you
And when i took a shower it reminded me of you
I called gramma brown
For advice
It happened to me once
It happened to me twice
My son
You sound really bugged
I wish that you were here
So i could to you give
A hug then she gave me
A long, long talk
She said "you have the patience
Of ice on a sidewalk"
When things get rough
Don't sweat it
Sometimes in life you just have to let it
And sing out a song
So strong
That even a bad dream couldn't bring harm
To the mind of a young childs battles
Formed from the candle light shadows
Her voice is like a whispering kiss on the forehead

Early in the morn
Before i wash my face
The bedisstill warmbut there's an empty space
Early in the mornin
Beforeiwashmy face
A hundred thousand miles is a lonely place

In the last thirty minutes
Before i fall asleep
When i have said my prayers
And i have brushed my teeth
This is the time
When i am forced to think about
All of the things
I been tryin to forget about
The bills, the phone, cleanin up my room
The cars, the traffic, the speakers and the boom
Alone i remember
The times with me and you
And i realize my heart is shakin' up the room
Gramma she would tell us
About the glory days
And gramma she would tell us
About when we were slaves
In the livin' room
Pianos outa tune
On top of it the pictures
Of every bride and groom
Grand child
Lost child
Every single tear shed
Every single smile
'cause everybodies got
Alota shit to deal with
And life doesn't stop
It just makes ya feel it
So shake the dust
Offa your feet
Take a step forward
Liberate with the beat
So for you
I wrote this song
I wanted you to hear it
Before you are gone.
The african in me
The seminole in me
These are some a things my grandmother gave
To me some believe there are and some believe there
Ain't if ever there was one my gramma brown she is a saint

Early in the morn
Before i wash my face
The bed isstill warmbut there'san empty space
Earlyin themornin
Before i wash my face
A hundred thousand miles is a lonely place

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