Verse 2
tongue, to speak is to trans-
-late, each sentence on the
run, so quiet's always running
late—well, who could have pre-
I'm not your prince—so honey, if the shoe fits
drop—it seems all my keys are
Those born beating guilty
hearts, they never chaste their
bliss. Now, would it kill me to be
Bridge
kind? Well, if history's a
guide: the courts will nail me to the
cross, the streets will eat my ass a-
-live. The whole death row idea is
fine—problem's in the exe-
-cution. Can't wake up early e-
-nough to nine-to-five for insti-
-tutions. Watch the clock with some a-
Dusted for prints—so honey, if the glove fits
You just keep living in the
dream; I close my eyes, and see the
lids. Yeah, all my keys are