(feat. Robust)



I'm havin' dreams of seeing Jesus on the Wilson stop

Crying' his eyes out, soaking the there t-shirt that he rocks

As the tears drop and mix with the blood from his palms

I compared his crown to yours and I began to scream psalms like

Soups open soul, soups open soul the non-stop

Unfold so he can roll and get his cross back from the pawn shop

Shocked no one can see him through his money green fog

And just then he disappeared from two kids with seeing eye dogs

They asked me who he was?

Well how should I know just a wino

Well we saw him in Border's tearing price tags off bibles

In this game of survival of the save souls

Until I know for sure I'll keep flyin' my tags with halos

He can't breath because my brother's yellin' "fuck your soul"

'Cause in this lustful world righteousness ain't never taxed deductibles

So fold your food stamps and go collect your plate

Hoping that heaven's open Sunday as she shakes from hunger rates

Mistakes these bullshit lessons her preachers stressing'

But never once questioned how many blessings he paid for his new Lexus

Profession, heaven's a million miles from Chicago

We only see the stars when we're tippin' back a bottle

Only see the stars when we're tippin' back a bottle

He only sees the stars when he's tippin' back a bottle

Why try to sleep? We don't dream as much as yesterday

All our prayers infested and stress and rent to pay

But ain't nobody hiring' on desire alone

Try to find his way home but this silence is cold

Like the Vietnam vet with the tires in his throne

Eyes turned to stone holding' wild Irish roads

With the time freezes froze he realizes it's his breath

In a foggy bottle, To remind him he's dead

Left to get worthless in this bus terminal

He puffs an answer to his cancer, but the circle grows

And echos in the subway "who's gonna save us"

Sleeping under the newspaper, obituaries face up

God bless you for your pennies collect your spoils of war

Spoils himself with a meal he paid a quarter for

He's sorta short on... Can't afford a conversation

Sure the cloud is chasin' in the place his legs went

It's gonna take a whole village to drown this witch

But she floats over dreams, foams when he sips

He misses his children witnesses the buildings drop

Disgusted with this rusted anchor called the Wilson stop

Disgusted with this fuckin' rusted anchor

Disgusted with this fuckin' rusted anchor called the Wilson stop

Yo, if it ain't been in the pawn shop, then it can't play the blues

If it ain't been in a pawn shop, then it can't play the blues

If it ain't been in a pawn shop, then it can't play the blues

If it ain't been in a pawn shop, then it can't play the blues

Now can it?

I guess we can all play the blues