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I died my last days on the cold streets of the city and I'll tell the cold tale of my life and its stale pity

Sunny days in the hood where nothing was good where faces were stone and life was misunderstood

Ignorant minds with powerful hands

Crept throughtout these streets and unfortunate lands

Broken down buildings in the cold shaky mist dawned every morning with the rank air smell of piss

Kids walked through these streets going to school learning from the outside -- thinking good grades were for fools

Ignorant minds with powerful hands

Destructive hands with no reason

No regrets as pain soared through the air like grains of sand

Clouds raced up above like deep currents in the sea sending drops falling to the earth for all of us to see

On these cold, cement-paved streets, waters do rain
They wash away all the grime and clear the city of stains

But what follows the many clear drops of rain water are not rich wives or their spoiled young daughters

They are the ghetto species of man and child, with wishes of grandeur that do not come mild

They take violence and guns out in to the paved avenues like rain brings water -- and water brings flu's

Can you picture the violence in the air with gunshots at night and lives taken because of stares?

Dirty streets soaked in the blood of those lives taken generation after generation of victims' souls are felt in the skies looming above watching these streets with cautious eyes

Souls run deep in the streets -- alive and dead they will stay around until the day where all our guns are shed

Let go of your weapon put up your fists stare in the eyes of cowardness and get pissed

In the night it is told that the many souls come alive taking the forms of shadows that duck and hide

They run about in these cold streets and fly through the wind haunting everything they touch and blessing the sinned

Heavy rains pour in the barrios and we look for cover - for one time stand out there and be like no other

Look to the skies and in the storm stand tall
Ask them to bring more rains and try to make you fall

Scream with your heart and glory what you feel deep inside
Represent your life and all those close to you who have died

Life livin' from experiences and soul is the way

I walked through the cold steady rain with my gun in hand cocked and ready to blast if my enemy should want to make a stand

I scratched my temple and looked around the block scanning for any life that moved and whose life I would stop

I yearned for vengeance that my heart couldn't help but need for the life was taken from my one and only seed

The son I had brought into this world was killed and shot by some lowly motherfucker who used his gun instead of fought

In these times and places life is too much for a child with too many pains and troubles that force them to be rough and wild

The streets are our schools and our teachers are guns
Death is our lives - we are unfortunate ones

I live for the love of life and strive for the death of pain
Lessons of life can save a man but life alone can drive him insane

--Ryan Calle


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