Trying-to-blend
Member
We sell, crack to our own out the back of our homes
We smell the musk at the dusk in the crack of the dawn
We go through "Epidodes II," like "Attack of the Clones"
Work 'til we break our back and you hear the crack of the bone
To get by.. just to get by
Just to get by, just to get by
-Hello?
Out of dope again. Have to replenish supplies down at the corner. He was expecting the call, but not this fucking early. Six AM in the morning. "Just like the song" he thinks to himself, chuckling. Just like the song, it's cold too.
He hates the cold. It wakes him up. It tears him from dreams of peace, dreams where his father is still alive and his wife and kids sleep under the same roof. Dreams that forever haunt him but will never be again. At least not while this shit is going on. But what else is there?
He gets dressed quickly, ignoring the two day old odor emanating from his body and putting on the same clothes he had on last night. Who's gonna see him at this hour? The clothes still smell of smoke and weed, booze and sin. The smell brings shame to him, reminds him that he is trying to forget.
He grabs the big bag from under the bed and starts counting out decks. Five for the kid that runs the corner, 10 for the alley. They usually take 20 at a time, but the heat's been on them and they can't afford the loses. He puts the bag back, careful to reposition the bed ruffles just so, just like his wife used to.
He's about to leave when he remembers the most important detail. He almost forgot his baby, his lifeline, his .357 magnum. Greased and polished, he always kept it neat. It had saved his life on countless occasions, but also put him at risk every time a cop stopped next to him at a red light. Whatever, it's not like it matters to him anymore.
Done for now. If you guys like it, let me know and i'll continue. Any pointers as to grammar and anythign else are ALWAYS welcome.
We smell the musk at the dusk in the crack of the dawn
We go through "Epidodes II," like "Attack of the Clones"
Work 'til we break our back and you hear the crack of the bone
To get by.. just to get by
Just to get by, just to get by
-Hello?
Out of dope again. Have to replenish supplies down at the corner. He was expecting the call, but not this fucking early. Six AM in the morning. "Just like the song" he thinks to himself, chuckling. Just like the song, it's cold too.
He hates the cold. It wakes him up. It tears him from dreams of peace, dreams where his father is still alive and his wife and kids sleep under the same roof. Dreams that forever haunt him but will never be again. At least not while this shit is going on. But what else is there?
He gets dressed quickly, ignoring the two day old odor emanating from his body and putting on the same clothes he had on last night. Who's gonna see him at this hour? The clothes still smell of smoke and weed, booze and sin. The smell brings shame to him, reminds him that he is trying to forget.
He grabs the big bag from under the bed and starts counting out decks. Five for the kid that runs the corner, 10 for the alley. They usually take 20 at a time, but the heat's been on them and they can't afford the loses. He puts the bag back, careful to reposition the bed ruffles just so, just like his wife used to.
He's about to leave when he remembers the most important detail. He almost forgot his baby, his lifeline, his .357 magnum. Greased and polished, he always kept it neat. It had saved his life on countless occasions, but also put him at risk every time a cop stopped next to him at a red light. Whatever, it's not like it matters to him anymore.
Done for now. If you guys like it, let me know and i'll continue. Any pointers as to grammar and anythign else are ALWAYS welcome.