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Search results for 'old folks at home by stephen foster' Page #5
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to go home oh Lord I want to go home Home folks think I'm big in Detroit City From the letters that I write they think I'm fine But by day I make
the street rebellion Said if he go to jail he take his lick he never telling Grew up in foster homes ran away ain't feel no love Headed to the street
here in this land, my heart is in Ireland. The land of the old folks is calling to me." Near a coal mine in Wales, by a roadside cafe, A young girl
Last night I went to sleep in Detroit City I dreamed about them cotton fields of home I dreamed about my mother, dear old pappy, sister and brother
Father figure strained by allegation Good intentions means less than ever now Goodbye sweet young thing Nick Nunziata - Bass, Guitar, Vocals Stephen
From the "welcome home" to the kick out Reach into a rabbit, pull a trick out Preacher preaching to a faggot with his dick out Hard times call for
Last night I went to sleep in Detroit City I dreamed about them cotton fields of home I dreamed about my mother, dear old pappy, sister and brother
infected with a curious nature The welcome mat said, "God bless this home," not "God damn thy neighbor" They can repeat history but can't recycle paper They
oh Lord I wanna go home Home folks think I'm big in Detroit City From the letters that I write they think I'm fine But by day I make the cars by
the depths Y'all go let the malice breed Until it fosters death I just don't get the joke Funny Usually I'm one with the punchlines Used to be a prodigy Now I
dollar homes, that increase as I get older Do you like what it's like to go to school in a Rover? And sure, daddy was much colder, but look at my new fancy
Last night I went to sleep in Detroit City I dreamed about them cotton fields of home I dreamed about my mother, dear old pappy, sister and brother
fields at home. I dreamed about my mother, Dear old Papa, Sister and brother, I dreamed about that girl Who's been waiting for so long. I want to go
pollinated by the "Be" Pac called it the rose that rose from concrete How do you define divine that finds street? "Hip bop," the color of my leaves Not
don't go near Climb that tree or interfere If you do, the old folks say There's an awful price to pay Old Thekwane, the hamerkop Down by the river,
still alive Lord ain't called me home Built to survive Foster homes, abuse, addiction... Reinforce the pain Old cold nights still cut like a knife Never
This for all my country folk Slamming them Caddy doors Sitting out on the porch Fresh from head to toe This for all my Southern kin Be proud
at my folks like Oh Wait Like I'm on a roll like Oh Wait Foot down from the go like All time gas in my go time pack Breakin down earth by hand like toph
Well, I'm not old, but in my short life, I've seen so much with these eyes Most folks'd close 'em. That's why I keep mine open wide A starved soul can
Stay by my lone all seven Had to ghost, on old folks I can't keep round no Niggas know how it goes tryna keep me down low I can't fold, on my soul,
somethin' on an ugly folk Well-known flow, man I got this shit from Simpson Road Rather be goin' home insteada hearin' his own fo' A drop top, flip flop,
Last night I went to sleep in Detroit City And I dreamed about the cotton fields and home I dreamed about my mother, dear old papa, sister
That go to show this ass Kicking ain't gon bother nigga Cause it's right back where You started nigga Being a son of a Harlem nigga Now you was made by
oh how I wanna go home Home folks think I'm big in Detroit City From the letters that I write they think I'm fine But by day I make the cars by
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