If Anyone Knows Russian I Must Speak Soon Or I'M Kremlin Bound
LUXURY TO LAMENT
When the temperature outside says you should be hot
Except you’re mother f*****g cold in every spot
When you’re laying in a luxurious four-poster bed
Scoring some dope is the only thought in your head
When my bones ache every time I move
A body doesn’t need anything else to prove
I feel the sweat but wet my body shouldn’t be
While Bobby next door has dope but he ain’t giving it away free
I’ve got holes in my pocket, my shirt and in my shoes
But the body doesn’t need any other kind of clues
You grow more uncomfortable in that luxurious bed
And your only option is to hit some old lady with a rock over the head
But you’re shaking and your body is making you pay
I’m only twenty three yet my hair is turning grey
I’m lying on a luxurious four-poster bed
And my only option could be the morgue………., home for the dead
(c) 2011....phreepoetree
Copyright © Jeffry Cohan | Year Posted 2011
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