Little People (OST Blue Mountain State) (Замена масла) (исполнитель: The Procussions)
Envision a prison of age where the apparent disposition is out of [bad word] to live in a cage To its a appearance where decisions are made to not listen, and they got their fist in opposion to fair play must be in your soliction of rage you became a victim the same way the system that gave way inflictin the same pain you convicted and cant blame recondition your brain till you convince you cant change understand and be wishin family tradition wont end you in a position where you feel in the rein lonely without a home, cause now your childs lone wearin a milestone like its " ? " cryin we all alone hopin that god forgives you wonderin if you get too no one should have to live through the violence that you been through the fight thats still within you its time to make things right and free the child that lives within you [bad word] Hear me See me do you even know im still breathing? I listen to the sounds of the tv the only thing that really wants to reach me Daddy listen Mommy please there must be a better way to raise me i yell untill my ears cant heare me into a silence that kills me There billy stands at twenty below grippin his coat that froze two hours ago " ? " 7 year olds waitin takes another look at a picture that lost time painted put it away i cant look at it the [bad word] stings a little when u look at it we creatin a mold of bad habits when the teacher got eleven year olds that blast at em and the world tunes in just then listenin to every word that he shoulda heard at age ten that he wonders where it all began he could call you a father but couldnt really ever call you a friend you work hard to provide a home for good livin and you figured thats all you really had to give em now if you dont know much know this all work no play "?" no miss [bad word] Hear me See me do you even know im still breathing? I listen to the sounds of the tv the only thing that really wants to reach me Daddy listen Mommy please there must be a better way to raise me i yell untill my ears cant heare me into a silence that kills it was once said that the grass with wither and the flowers will fall down and every man must pass when his number gets called but when a child takes his life that type of logic dont work out a flower never told to pluck its own petals out and throughout all the tears it gets so clear that the son i held dear i lost somewhere between my work passion and a childs size casket its hard to grasp when these dreams keep flashin his cold foot hanging from a stainless steel table and a white sheet stained with a mothers pain and grief and every day i wipe the faces filling the pain so another scape goat thats just filling the blame what kind of man am i? what kind of mother were you? what kind of life did we subject a child too? wishin i woulda listened couldve probably seen whose prayin for salvation that a soul could sure use [bad word] Hear me See me do you even know im still breathing? I listen to the sounds of the tv the only thing that really wants to reach me Daddy listen Mommy please there must be a better way to raise me i yell untill my ears cant heare me into a silence that kills