Homme

He says I’ll see you later, Shorty
He says we’ll have to kick it again

Sometime

She says I love your music baby
She says he’ll have to give in again

Sometimes

I sit in the house and wait for him
Watching his interviews and videos

Sadly

He doesn’t know this may be the end
The scrappin’, the screamin’, the money and hoes

Gladly

I hold his hand at the private funerals
I told his fans he’ll be okay again,

One day

But until then he’ll sit in his room and let the horrors roll
While I hurry from my seat, into a world I can’t comprehend

But hey

I’m willing to wait and learn and burn right beside him
But he doesn’t see me inside of him
So I’ll die tied to him

The one…

Airs are thick with deceptions, but he can’t smell it yet
Just one more record, skank, car, unpayable debt

Today

I refuse to let now be the conclusion and forget
To forever hold his love beside, inside, up-kept

It frays