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Dreams of a Distant Journey
by
Zeroh
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Lyrics
His name is Sage Sage who sees through And not aloud Yeah Troubled son, troubled son on the run These days you never know My father told me get a gun Troubled son, troubled son on the run These days you never know My father told me get a gun Way too many European clothes and not enough funds I been on my own, if Papa was around, it ain't no question who would own a home Trust, I had to grow quicker than most Sound definite, definitely heaven sent Horns blazing, only some forget the sunken ships I often rеminisce, what spirit guides a calm regrеt? Look myself in the mirror, start tearing up as I reflect I rearrange my meaning December days, I recollect, I reconnect through dreaming A distant daze, my journey long, I fix my face to see it Ronaldinho how I curve the ball, I’m Ziyech from a distance Roberto Carlos round the problems, Henry with the finish Winning strong, my Orixás, they often calling wishes Witches, been scared by the wicked one, the whispers Heart burning, see the embers My spirit been the saddest, most the time I can't remember Karma from my last life, it ain't a time I can't remember, to live with reason Trees and this upon eating Found truth, here it is in my palm, breathing I'm living proof I got fam in Santiago, I got fam in Tennessee Child of a Ogun, his spirit walk amongst the trees Proper dearest came from Nashville, it's Choctaw in me It's Choctaw in me Yeah I got fam in Santiago, I got fam in Tennessee Child of a Ogun, his spirit walk amongst the trees Proper dearest came from Nashville, it's Choctaw in me It's Choctaw in me Troublesome Troubled son on the run So when you praise something Alright? It lives When the spirits praise us, we live But their praise is our life Their praise is our heartbeat Their praise is the grass growing At least I get to live I never think when it'd die You'd have to grieve the hell out Because if you don't grieve it, then it never was really alive It didn't live, it's already dead And that's what terrifies the hell out of us If you have two centuries of people that haven't grieved the things that they loved, and they left properly, where does that grief go?
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