it was the summer of 95 (so what?) in the backyard shaving the old plies.

feeling so strong. something went wrong. straight into my finger what a

stinger it was so long. i still remember that day like the day that i said

that i swear "i'll never hurt myself again" but it seems that i'm deemed to be

wrong to be wrong to be wrong so i've got to keep holding on... they always

played a slow song.when they come for me i'll be sitting at my desk with a gun

in my hand wearing a bulletproof vest singing my my my how the time does fly

when you know you're going to die by the end of the night. i still remember

when we were young and fragile then. no one gave a shit about us because times

were tougher then. feeling so good. cruising the hood. straight into the real

world rich kids never understood. but i don't care i can fade away to anywhere

don't stop because you might get dropped and if you do who's going to pick you

up well i won't. well tell i won't... they always played a slow song