Why won’t my memory of you fade?
You always said you had my back, but at what cost?
The bullet wound through your chest tells me where we stand-in the middle of a bloody
Surrounded by blood and innocent bodies.
I bet I can count the total amount, give me a sec.
3, 15, 50, 200 dead bodies on the ground floor.
What ever happened to our dreams-living the millionaire dollar life, when all we have is
thirty cents in our back pocket?
We stood together ‘till the end, but what now?
I really don’t want to get shot.
At least not like you did-by your own girl who just happened to be in a gang war.
We knew our luck wouldn’t last forever, chasing and snatching dreams with no failures.
as I see you on the ground, as I hear the gun shots, as I see bodies falling, I can safely
say “We’re the luckiest people alive.”