When there is freedom on the line,
I get a little blood in my eye.
And I’m waiting on a shepherd,
To carry me to my home.
You don’t want what’s inside of me,
A little boy disintegrates.
I got a crater upside my mind,
And I don’t want to change.
Black cloud, hanging over my head.
And the crowd I’m running with,
Has quite the reputation.
Black cloud, I should be dead.
Cause the crowd I’m running with,
Has quite the reputation.
There’s a fever in my heart,
From the funeral and the march.
But I’ll take the blame,
I was shooting for the stars.
I got no choice in how I behave,
Oh, but a choice that god made.
I got one foot searching for gold,
And one in the grave.
(Chorus)
