Rancid - 1998 | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Rancid
• 1998

White Stones, Queens, 1974
Fathers talkin' shit, motherfucker slam the door
Hit the streets runnin' cannot take it any more
In the reins of the trains I cuddle on the floor

Well the park bench is cold, sleepin' here for free
Little kids sittin' in the shooting gallery
Set yourself up from innocence to misery
Oh if this is what you want
not the way of what they fucking say!

Hangin out with Sid yet again in the USA!
Sidney! Sidney! in the USA!

Lower east side, 1976
Who's got the dope, and who's turning tricks?
Should I call a user, all for a fix?
Rippin' off some lady just to avoid from gettin' sick

What are light bulbs for when you got no where to go
What the fuck happens to your soul when your low?
Is he comin' over? is he comin' home?
Your mama's disappointed, waiting by the phone

Yeah!!!

Hangin out with Sid yet again in the USA!
Sidney! Sidney! in the USA!

Same fuckin' shit, 1998
Lifting bait, and by the fuckers that he hates
Hit some fucking people by the Kennedy strait
Who's got the bag gonna seal his fate?

By the park bench cold, sleepin' here for free
Little kids sittin' in the shooting gallery
Set yourself up from innocence to misery
Oh if this is what you want
not the way of what they fucking say!

Hangin out with Sid yet again in the USA!
Sidney! Sidney! in the USA!

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