Scared Of Chaka The Millionth Mile
i woke up at ten this mornin, the same clothes i had on
stage..it must have been one million degees insde the
buster stinking from a million mile tour. forgot where
the guys slept last night, my hair smelled like smoke and
beer. the nice lady on the street asked 'are you a
band... or just avoiding the impending hand of doom?'
drop your hands and kicks those words away. what you're
gonna do really matters....just not toady. dont obey what
the fake ones all obey. does anyone really want a real
one anyway? (this is only the first verse, it was lifted
from SOC's website, posted by santa, but it is correct)
