Search results for 'old folks at home by stephen foster' Page #34

Did some growing spent all that time by myself
Wise man told me this story'll write itself
God damn
People be tugging right on my belt
If I said

something out of nothin, living off of minimum wages
I've earned a lot by bein broke
Learned from the genius folk
If you could see what I truly mean
I

The fuck?
Clock hit Five Fifty Five Pm
Remember when my mama dressed me in denim
Confess to the lord every day I'm a sinner
Doing bad shit then be home by

seeding a lie of eternal wealth
The dying of the old and keys to the gates of Arcadia at minimal anguish
Ariel's ego heightened by materialistic flattery

make it work
Like the old folks tend to say
Need to cleanse wash sins away
Same way I end
When I wake in the morning
For my feet hit the floor
Bow my

straight no other place you find will feel like home
It's a grand old adventure 
Nothing gained, nothing ventured
Oh God

The kid was born
In the dead of winter
He was kept warm
By the passing strangers
Scraps of fabric torn
Tossed in some worn old manger
They'd seen

guiding us home
Through the aeons adust
Nothing but cloudless sky
And nothing more will be, no
Nothing but cloudless sky
Just fairy tales and make-belief

crutch, won't get old
Tempted by lust, no bed rose
Empath side crushed to bits, this life shit ain't no joke
In a world where the invisible man is left

heads
Better than the grown folk, living by his own code
At home and I'm smoking some homegrown and it's dope
I worry mom I got her phoning the pope
Toke

home,
but he started out to roam
and I hear he's out by Monterey,

And sometimes, when I've had a few,
his voice comes singin' through
and I'm a-goin' out

When we were kids
We were always seen together
Folks would see us by the trainyard after school
We'd hold each other's hand and we'd go walking
I'd

control the codes
Like older folk
Who look up to noble roles
Chicago Outfit & Al Capone
Without the mobile phone
Back in the day we used to think
It's best

Well here's a story I've heard told
It might be wrong it's pretty old
About a gypsy man and his guitar
He traveled throughout the land
In his gypsy

Yeah
Ah
Am I dreaming, is this real life?
Did I manage to try and get by?
Why do I feel like I'm losing my mind?
The only truth I find is my life

true wanna be down
Guess how many flows you gotta spit?
Like toilet paper
I'ma put you through a lotta quit
K-Rino getting murked by your kinda flow
You

Daydreamin' of what the future looks like
And my mind instantly wanders to you
I see us cooped up in some suburban home
With a golden retriever

it alone
Don't you go befriending no more
Don't you give it no old folks home
Come in any form shape and size
From a thousand eyed demon monster out

just heard my verses
Gettin' published by Zondervan
Interesting, Stephen Hawking surrounded
By these Simpletons
Or maybe Walts' surrounded
By Jesse

the kids talkin about
what Santa might bring
My folks got me a bike
I thought they were goin soft
But then I seen the serial number
Been scratched off

All I

the government falls Revolt by the coming folk, bringin' down the walls
All we want from is us rightfully ours
Citizens with guns that rise for the cause
Put our

I come from a small town
Where the streets are dirt
Where folks still gather 'round
To share a word

This is where I learned to love
To hope and pray

Ima young nigga 
Gettin' this money juh like the old folk
Nigga outchea here looking at me
Juh like a sale dope
Money keep on coming on in
That

are a girl who gets most of my stupid jokes
You are an old folk song that no one’s ever heard
You are a lovely accent when you speak
My muffin top
My