Foreign Beggars, Anik, Tommy Evans - Where Did the Sun Go? lyrics
[Foreign Beggars, Anik, Tommy Evans - Where Did the Sun Go? lyrics]
The quiet chords from my guitar
Floating on the silence that surrounds us
Ayo, where did the sun go?
Erased by the cars
Abghas, Haze and gun smoke
Through the rain as I speak my bars
The light of the streets delete the stars
The air that we breathe is poison and
People wear fake tan to avoid the sun
Like a demon child that destroys it's mum
Eaten up from the inside
Like horsemen from Troy
My lungs are jet black and cancerous
Gasoline, nicotine and Ganja spliffs
Damage is done like when arms handlers
Had me praying for change
Like a thousand mantises
Pursue goodness and loot the righteous
Dark circling computer nightmares
We cruise lightyears
Recruiting the future fighters
Quiet nights of quiet stars
The quiet chords from my guitar
Floating on the silence that surrounds us
I write the sickest raps that bring
It back to the natural elements
Iller than twisted cats with twenty
Kids in backward settlements
Settling for less than ten pence
For a day's wage
It's this rap game's baiter than
Ancient ways of racial hatred
With thoughts contagiously spawning new
Waves of anger
Damaging innocent minds that wanna rhyme
'cos they're none the wiser
I flow more than two rival
Tides in a violent ocean
Riding the undercurrents of bodies
Writhing in tribal motion
Survive on the vital potion
Liquid swords of frozen soul food
Holding the pole position only stroll
With wholly bold few
But, I'm sure by the rise of
The next cycle we'll be forgotten
Confided in dry tears by the
Wayside with mind's rotten
Fight for the common cause in the
Plight for the defiant brother
Whose only hope to find soul is in
A bottle or a lonely gutter
If only truths were uttered every
Time our mouths were open
We'd be halfway to the promised land
With the vision of cowards broken
Quiet nights of quiet stars
The quiet chords from my guitar
Floating on the silence that surrounds us
I'm a starving artist who harnessed
The force of the beat
I talk to my peeps who walk in their sleep
Through dimly lit Victorian streets
Where the law of the beasts
Is enforced by police
Ignoring the shrieks and silent screams
Violent scenes
Grey smog hides sun's vibrant beams
Tyrants seek to make loot in grey suit's
Caught in the same loop but can't break loose
The hate the hate produced takes root
Shapes youths
And grows into Billie Holiday's strange fruit
The rotten apple he picked from the trees
The sick and diseased
To it's pips and it's seeds
The wickedest fiends trick and deceive
The victims bereaved
Mans are addicted to greed
But wealth corrupts til you self-destruct
Our target is to uplift and help you up what
Quiet nights of quiet stars
The quiet chords from my guitar
Floating on the silence that surrounds us