I'm sure you'll be able to tell this is a story song. I didn't focus on rhyming as much as I did story-telling. To me, it's the best story I've ever done. I'm not sure anyone will agree, but oh well.
I wrote it to this beat:
http://www.shadowville.com/121645/genre ... ulless-man
we will wait...
we will wait...
we will wait...
opened up his eyes wide screaming to a new life..
with everything around him being seen inside a new light..
He couldn't understand it all the faces that were staring at him
barely mattered, he was just as cold as he had ever been..
what happened to the warmth inside her belly? (Shoulda never left)
(let me guess, the story takes a turn for the worst right?)..
the first fight, we're gonna jump alot of months ahead (bottoms up)...
The same screaming baby with a differ-ent situation to be placed in,
facing up the demons that he'd wrestle with the rest of his life,
(best to fight them off) but you can't, fight them all
(daddy's getting mad now).. mommy wouldn't back down,
mommy covers little puppy, mommy turns to daddy
and then daddy turns a little rough with mommy
and a six pack of "confidence" into a "hurt her badly",
and sadly.. This is how the story goes,
this is how we pour the tone..
(Maury Povich would be proud of them)
we will wait..
we will wait..
til the bottle is gone..
til the bottle is gone..
we jump ahead a little while... daddy learned to pass the mic
the 'confidence' dad would like would turn into his bragging rights,
(little puppy's growing up now).. his tail's a little thicker..
he's known for hanging up town and handling his liquor..
he's hanging with the clowns and getting praised for his abilities
for keeping down the liquid that would shade his insecurities
impurities and surely he's a joke ((he's a joke))..
If they only knew what he was hiding in that drunken stooper
Someone who's alive, they might have died from what he was doing,
(speak the truth) and thank the heavens that he's been dead since..
daddy hit mommy, living life out as a sentence..
the women he's in bed with would never know the real man..
the man behind the liquid.. the one without a real hand
to catch him if he falls because the only one who did that
was battered in a brawl by his own hands,
His old man's influence is prevelant..
Even as a young pup he knew just how to settle it..
Daddy taught him well, Alcohol's the best medicine
we will wait..
we will wait..
til the bottle is gone..
til the bottle is gone..
Now that little puppy has a family of his own..
he grew into a big dog, he's happy with his home..
Happy with the bone that he has buried in his backyard,
a track star, He's used to running away into a stooper still..
new refill is waiting once that bottle hits the emptiness
(Deabating on the day that she can run away and end with him)..
a six pack would barely give him confidence
but took away his common sense
the cops would get called, upon a nightly basis,
(the cycle rages on).. it's a face that his father painted,
Placed in the wrong arrangement,
(Mother tried to save him from it)
a puppet on the string inside that bottle that he's cupping well,
there's something telling me that he won't live to give another welt..
She ain't naive enough to think he would leave her in a shelter
and he ain't... Well enough to help her...
and he ain't... Well enough to help her..
He can't help himself...
til the bottle is gone..
I fed mik's piece. and alot of others, lol.