Burbank

i'm in the west coast, burbank

searching my soul

i got a message

 From your god

tryna selling me dope

it's in my head,

like a screen

that i'll be dragged in the post

i don't know why america.

You take the skin not the bones

And i guess you left home

and i was broken

cos i loved you,

but its over

So you can take the rest

And keep your dreams up on the poster

 Its the west coast,

That's the only place i'll go

Where I can hang my head in shame and still win a golden globe

But but

stop thinking that you know my name

it's in the papers it's not the same

stop cut it out

i'm on death row, same shit,

different beliefs

i got the eagle of pride

tattooed on my sleeve

and it's the new dawn ,

police the peace on the streets

yeah i've not felt a real touch

since we get off to a screen

i need to cry

i need to get drunk

i need to spend my money on junk

i need to get off

i need your skin

i need what everyone calls a sin

i need to be heard

i need to be loved

i need to up my prescription drugs

i need to be felt

i need to be touched

i need your so called grace from above

i need to die

 to live times ten

with you inserted in my head

i need you heaven

i need your hell

i need to buy that dance you sell

i need your jesus

i need your guru

i need to be told it's me and you

i need your god

i need your girl

i need your creation

i need you world

Stop thinking that you know my name

It's in the papers it's not the same