None More Black
None More Black
None More Black
None More Black
None More Black
None More Black
None More Black
None More Black
None More Black
None More Black
None More Black
None More Black
None More Black
Forty miles from the city
Sitting in traffic isn't fun
A crucifix stabbed in soil
To a father from a son
There's ghosts on the highway, I claim
Dancing on the medians, slamming brakes
I'm forty miles from the city
This is the shit that's in my brain
I need a whim, something I can get caught up in
I've got to get down to something
If I could sacrifice a little bit
I will
Some of us are drinking coffee
But how the hell could you read a paper?
Probably headlines of fuel
While the government's putting all the red tape down
Wake up, I just woke up
Wake up, I just woke up
The revolution won't be televised
'Cause it's in the morning drive
I need a whim, something I can get caught up in
I've got to get down to something
If I could sacrifice a little bit
I will
I need a whim, something I can get caught up in
I've got to get down to something
If I could sacrifice a little bit
You bet I will