In the back of my mind, all I feel is mistrust,
in the back of my mind, all I see is the dirt,
segregation of thoughts, ideals turning to dust.
Where some houses once stood,
stands a man with a gun,
in some neighbourhood,
a father hangs up his son,
in the back of my mind.
in the back of my mind, all I see is the dirt,
segregation of thoughts, ideals turning to dust.
Where some houses once stood,
stands a man with a gun,
in some neighbourhood,
a father hangs up his son,
in the back of my mind.