Raised to fail in a small town. Taught to die young. Broken glass in empty streets. My skies filled with grey clouds. Sadness bleeds from lampposts. Loneliness is sidewalk cracks. Born to die young. Winter burns my beaten face. Laughter is a memory. Every voice plagued with doubt. Monuments to misery. One way signs, dead end roads. Razors could never cut as deep as those glares from the walking dead. Trapped in Hell, no way out. I sit and wait for the quiet after a storm that never comes. One last chance, thrown away. Led down this hopeless path. I gave up miles ago and I'm ashamed to say I've been left here to die.
"Before I moved to scenic Albany, I lived in a place called Stratford, CT for a good 7 or years. I hate that place so much. So much I wrote a song about it. I'm sure some of you can relate because everyone hates where they live. It's nothing new. Move along."Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
