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letra de the night i lost control - westhand

south side graduated from hard knocks
wrong side of the tracks so he turned to the streetlights
despise any punk that got something to say, they tried their luck in vain before he blew em’ away
the one outspoken, parents never supportive, no, they sick of all the times i f-ck it up when i be broken
seen too much in this f-cked up life “i’m joining the fight, can’t hide, you can see the pain in my eyes” was in his note
mom’s choked up, dad’s doped up, on the lines he’s coked up to them he’s just a soldier
he’s got bullets like ritalin for anyone to try and stop him
going back to his hood just ain’t an option
so, keep it going
enemies he keeps on smoking
bombs exploding, bodies dropping, don’t give a f-ck he keeps unloading
didn’t believe in me then why would you believe in me now
so, wear a frown the situation finna turn around
no hope
the sense of doom comes rushing in
let go
the tide it pulls against us all

blood, shed, my eyes have never glowed such crimson red
aim, hate, organic rush witness this panic inflicting pain

i felt the sun burn to keep the darkness away
the moon glows in the wake of their eternal sin
“when will it be me?
when will my family have to grieve?”
a collective thought beyond reach
using death as a weapon

use death as a weapon
fell straight out of heaven
the moon still shines cold at night i’ll do whatever it takes to make sure i can fight it off
use death as a weapon
fell straight out of heaven
the sun still burns the light of the sky praying up we ask why am i gonna make it out alive?

blood, shed, my eyes have never glowed such crimson red
aim, hate, organic rush witness this panic inflicting pain
no sense of direction just an instinct of k!lling
the shots keep ringing as the blood keeps spilling in the calm of the night
the screams pierce through the ringing
collecting the pieces of bones of our brothers in arms
you’ll never make it out alive

oh father have mercy on my soul
i’ve k!lled a man with a gun to my brother’s head
what choices were left with traumatic stress
fatigues can’t disguise vacant eyes etched into my skull
furthering the disconnect of a silhouette with each tag i collect

- westhand

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