Yo, lots of impossible things happened to him Who hasn’t forgotten his dreams Even though he hangs with the rottenest fiends Who keep heaters on the waistline Right behind the pockets of jeans and vodka to drink And I am not obscene just to be obscene What I say is what I mean, I mean I am just being me And you gotta live with that cause that is all I can be Man I wish on every star I see Till I’m adios, ghost gone and laid down, the RIP With any sick track and sold song on my CD I gotta look back, it’s so long as far I see Seen mommas covered in love, later mobbed with grief Seen times smothered in drugs I could hardly eat My later teen years I fell down in part of the streets In my 20’s I became something that’s harder to beat Man this lifestyle’s taking sanity out of me My friends are dead or locked up, strung out and hopped up Hopping out of trucks jammed watching for cops’ cuffs This is not plush living, this is living from adrenaline rush Definitions of a feeling that you never can trust Love, lust, crush, pain with the heroin flush If the lust is what the devil is peddling us isn’t heavy enough I’m unemployed, can’t drive, and my Chevy is fucked Yo, I guess you live, you learn, you play the game You change from your struggle, never stay the same Man I spit fire with halos, Heaven and Hell S-l-a-i-n-e is the letters that spell Slaine