We were ridin' out With heads in the sky We were ten and twelve and thirteen We got bb guns and dirt bikes And heads full of crowded dreams We always won In the hot suburban sun We were kings of the west side track These new kids over cross slater street Comin' on like a heart attack
Mama says Where are ya going? And when will you be comin' home? With my brother and my memory I'll bring my history home Sealed with piss and with pride Through the streets we would ride Over cracks in the dirt and weeds We'd best be home by suppertime Just in time to craft a scheme
If you've got my back Here's the plan of attack Listen up if you would boys please We'll hit these pussies 'round midnight And roll off like a band of thieves With quiverin' eyes And our fear in disguise We gathered all that would burn in the breeze We hit the asphalt howlin' like hellfire Had no time to get weak in the knees
Under the cover of night When the timing was right Like a furious army of three We'd light up the sky like the fourth of july And race home like it was a dream And mama yells Where have ya been? And where the hell are ya comin' from? With my brother and my memory I'll bring my victory home With my brother and my memory I'll bring my history home
Compositor: Jacob Aaron Smith (The White Buffalo) (ASCAP)Editores: Kohaw Music Inc (ASCAP), Ruminating Music (ASCAP), The Bicycle Music Company, The White Buffalo International (ASCAP)ECAD verificado obra #6034401 em 19/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM