Tattoos in Mayberry

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House Not a Home

You must hide your heart
All over you roam.
Is your pilot light on
Is anyone home?
I've touched your hand
But,your hand's ice cold.
Pale as a ghost
and very old
A crooked fingered playbook is how you roll
Tell me have they cursed your soul
Messed with by experts
left to rot like road kill
They feed on burnt flesh
We swallow the pill
Another stick broken
a direct shot on goal
When have they
cursed your soul



Our blood spilled by scum
Our Streets overrun
Turned our best into bums.

Turned out like fresh meat
flip into auto pilot
set on cruise control  
Didn't you get the memo?
they've cursed your soul

Buddy Bee Anthony




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House Not a Home