Over 16,533,045 people are on fubar.
What are you waiting for?
Inside me Im screaming,but nobody pays attention. I f I had arms,I could kill myslef. If I had legs,I could run away.
If I had a voice,I could talk and be some kind of company for myself. I could yell for help,but nobody would help me.
Normally I dont do Metallica,but this was too good not to put down.
Southern man better keep your head
Don't forget what your good book said
Southern change gonna come at last
Now your crosses are burning fast
Southern man
Well I heard mister young sing about her
Well, I heard ole neil put her down
Well, I hope neil young will remember
A southern man dont need him around anyhow
Well, Johnny Cash is dead and his house burned down, down, down.
There’s a whole lotta weepin’ and wailin’ in Nashville town, Nashville town.
Well the Man in black ain’t commin’ back and Waylon ain’t a gonna come around.
Johnny Cash is dead and his house burned down.
Chet Atkins & Marty Robbins ain’t here to play, sing and play.
Miss Patsy Cline was one of a kind Lord knows, Oh By the way,
I got nothin’ against the young Country Stars, but I could use more fiddles and steel guitars,
Johnny Cash is dead and his house burned.
The years rolled slowly past
And I found myself alone
Surrounded by strangers I thought were my friends
I found myself further and further from my home
And I guess I lost my way
There were oh so many roads
I was living to run and running to live
Never worryied about paying or even how much I owed
Moving eight miles a minute for months at a time
Breaking all of the rules that would bend
I began to find myself searching
Searching for shelter again and again
I be walkin god like a dog
My narrative fearless
Word war returns to burn
Like Baldwin home from Paris, Uh
Like steel from a furnace
I was born landless
Yes its tha native son
Born of Zapatas guns
Stroll through the shanties
And tha cities remains
Same bodies buried hungry
But with different last names
The vultures robbin everything
Leave nothing but chains
Pick a point on the globe
Yes tha pictures tha same
Theres a bank, theres a church, a myth and a hearse
A mall and a loan, a child dead at birth
Theres a widow pig parrot
A rebel to tame
A whitehooded judge
A syringe and a vein
And the riot be the rhyme of the unheard
This aint subliminal
Feel the critical mass approach horizon
Tha pulse of the condemned
Sound off Americas demise
Tha anti-myth rhythm rock shocker
Yes I spit fire
Hope lies in the smoldering rubble of empires
Yes back through tha shanties and tha cities remains
Same bodies buried hungry, uh-huh
With different last names, uh-huh
The vultures robbin everyone
Leave nothing but chains
Pick a point here at home
Yes the pictures tha same
Theres a field full of slaves
Some corn and some debt
Theres a ditch full of bodies
Tha check for the rent
Theres a tap, tha phone, tha silence of stone
The numb black screen
That be feelin like home
And the riot be the rhyme of the unheard
Calm like a bomb
