you dont have to dread to be rasta ...this is not a dreadlocks thing.. it's a divine conception of the heart
Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay Were laid spread out before me as her body once did. All five horizons revolved around her soul As the earth to the sun Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turnand all I taught her was everything I know she gave me all that she wore And now my bitter hands chafe beneath the clouds Of what was everything. Oh, the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything...I take a walk outside I'm surrounded by some kids at play I can feel their laughter, so why do I sear? Oh, and twisted thoughts that spin round my head I'm spinning, oh, I'm spinning How quick the sun can drop awayAnd now my bitter hands cradle broken glass Of what was everything? All the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything...All the love gone bad turned my world to black Tattooed all I see, all that I am, all I'll beI know someday you'll have a beautiful life, I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky, but why Why, why can't it be, why can't it be mine
capleton
the harder they come
i forgot to .. hey brandon.. how's jack?
not old enough yet
station