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letra de where did the sun go? - foreign beggars

[hook] x 2
quiet nights of quiet stars
the quiet chords from my guitar
floating on the silence that surrounds us

[verse 1: anik]
ayo, where did the sun go?
erased by the cars
abghas, haze and gun smoke
through the rain as i speak my bars
the light of the streets delete the stars
the air that we breathe is poison and
people wear fake tan to avoid the sun
like a demon child that destroys it’s mum
eaten up from the inside like hors-m-n from troy
my lungs are jet black and cancerous
gasoline, nicotine and ganja spliffs
damage is done like when arms handlers
had me praying for change like a thousand mantises
pursue goodness and loot the righteous
dark circling computer nightmares
we cruise lightyears
recruiting the future fighters

[hook]

[verse 2]
i write the sickest raps that bring it back to the natural elements
iller than twisted cats with twenty kids in backward settlements
settling for less than ten pence for a day’s wage
it’s this rap game’s baiter than ancient ways of racial hatred
with thoughts contagiously sp-wning new waves of anger
damaging innocent minds that wanna rhyme ‘cos they’re none the wiser
i flow more than two rival tides in a violent ocean
riding the undercurrents of bodies writhing in tribal motion
survive on the vital potion
liquid swords of frozen soul food
holding the pole position only stroll with wholly bold few
but i’m sure by the rise of the next cycle we’ll be forgotten
confided in dry tears by the wayside with mind’s rotten
fight for the common cause in the plight for the defiant brother
whose only hope to find soul is in a bottle or a lonely gutter
if only truths were uttered every time our mouths were open
we’d be halfway to the promised land with the vision of cowards broken

[hook]

[verse 3]
i’m a starving artist who harnessed the force of the beat
i talk to my peeps who walk in their sleep
through dimly lit victorian streets
where the law of the beasts is enforced by police
ignoring the shrieks and silent screams
violent scenes, grey smog hides sun’s vibrant beams
tyrants seek to make loot in grey suits
caught in the same loop but can’t break loose
the hate the hate produced takes root, shapes youths
and grows into billie holiday’s strange fruit
the rotten apple he picked from the trees
the sick and diseased
to it’s pips and it’s seeds
the wickedest fiends
trick and deceive
the victims bereaved
mans are addicted to greed
but wealth corrupts
til you self-destruct
our target is to uplift and help you up
what

[hook]

- foreign beggars

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