Born in 77
From concrete born and raised
Life was tought the wind blew cold
It was a god forgotten place
He heard the distant thunder
When dark clouds rolled on by
Took his first steps beneath the rain
Did he ever wonder why

Forever turned to never
Broad daylight turned to black
Even when he is gone it burns a fire
In the misty morning
In the summer rain
The ghost will hunt for his desire

He took the roads to nowhere
He follows no mans trail
Hot lost sometimes but never cared
The ones who try will surely fail
Cause history created their heroes
And it decide who will not be
The high horse men will always rule
The working class like you and me

He died in 97
At once a dying breath
An end with pain when glory fades
A final struggle caused him death
He were not here a long time
But the memory remains
He lived his life with no regrets
Even tough he always were the blamed