He talks about his days they’re almost over
The headstone is a truth told entirely in lies
Soldiers on for the sake of nostalgia
Counts his smarts like the lines on a dial

Fakes it like a real man
Caught by the feeling, meets the ceiling as a ghost

Monuments to skin those days are over
A healthy dose of same ain’t enough to keep it down
No one left to blame, by the time it hits the ground

Working against the blood flow,
I thought I’d know me a bit by now
But we’re all stuck in limbo

Frontin’ its own occasion
Wading out with lead boots, down the line
Get me off that straight and narrow
Call to arms that magistrate, its a crime

Working against the blood flow,
I thought I’d know me a bit by now
But we’re all stuck in limbo..