boil my strings - gourds lyrics
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living down here they throw me down and count me
i’m making this up, it keeps my feathers clean
and the black boys they kick my -ss and tell me
that the women their ruby lips are dry.
i get angry and i get sad
and i lose this sweetness that i used to have
and i boil my strings
to get them back to gold
sleeping in here they give me plenty to eat
don’t make trouble, make something with the concrete
so i fill my pipes with it to break them black boys heads
lord, but i wish i had a gun.
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