drum, bang a drum Yeah, bang a drum, turn it up, bang a drum Yeah, bang a drum, turn it up, bang a drum Bang a drum, turn it up, bang a drum Yeah, bang a drum
Mahk Jchi Mahk jchi tahm buooi yahmpi gidi Mahk jchi taum buooi kan spewa ebi Mahk jchi tahm buooi yahmpi gidi Mahk jchi taum buooi kan spewa ebi Mahmpi
'll have fun Don't ever doubt it And when I say "Fare thee well, My only friend" Oh, how the days go Oh, how the days go Your setting sun Your broken drum
, my drum I'm banging on my one, my drums, my one I'm banging on my drum Yeah, I'm banging on drums, yeah Yeah, I'm banging on drum Yeah, I'm banging on drums
instrutmental
Charly says, always tell your mummy before you go off somewhere Charly says, always tell your mummy before you go off somewhere Charly says, always
's a drumming noise inside my head That starts when you're around I swear that you could hear it It makes such an all mighty sound There's a drumming
Down The paint is peelin? Now An' when the chips are down Down You gotta lose all feelin' Now An' when the chips are down Yea, I gets it poppin' everybody
the ground There's no sense of despair without sight, without sound We hold our ears and shut our eyes Distant screams morph into lullabies Ah, we beat indifferent drum
Written by Steven Wilson [instrumental]
our mommies how we made them run goin' down thir drum Goin' down their drum goin' down their drum Ten thousand drums ten thousand drums
Yeah, this is a ghetto prayer Prayin' for all of those who ain't got it We gotta get it there, we gotta get it, here Yeah, the people starvin' for somethin
We know that what we reap we sow But we forget how low we can go You think it's bad here on Earth But if we don't get to Heaven, it's Hell It's all goin
Intro: Deliver us, deliver us (yeah) Deliver us, deliver us (what, yeah) And what the people say? We wanna live it up And what the people want? Please
*Deliver me oh my father* Come on Yea This the war right here *Deliver me oh my Father* What what? yea. Deliver me from temptation, the weaker
Yo son, what the deal, son? What's really hood, son? The word is bond, shit is real, shit is real Yo son, this block is dead Nigga need to go over here
who we is, it's the kids that stay true to this life And if the mood is right, we gon' do it tonight, break it down Bringin' the drum, keep it funky
Yeah, as a kid growin' up in Brooklyn My pops was a DJ, he had a bunch of records Funk, jazz, rhythm and blues, soul, you know what I'm sayin'? There
