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He was a convict of his own conviction
He was in conflict of his own infliction
And the lines do draw a parallel
Right back to the place
Where the shadow boxers dance
And old memories dwell
Below the tight rope
Drawn in suspicion
Beneath the artist
Who walks in ambitions
And the lines do draw a parallel
Right between fact and fiction
So the honest truth cannot yell
over blind conviction
Nobody, nobody, nobody
Likes to be kept waiting
Nobody, nobody, nobody
Likes to feel powerless
He was a jack box
On his last round
He had been wound
And wound and wound
Until the old man
Pulled his final thread
the final thread that lead
To bloodshed
And the lines do a parallel
Right to the source of the friction
Where the spark that started a fire
From an old flint fell
Causing a burning
Affliction
Nobody, nobody, nobody
Likes to be kept waiting
Nobody, nobody, nobody
Likes to feel powerless
And so he found himself
With his lady, on the run
Pursued by his friend
The emancipator and instigator
That old shot gun
And they ran
Till time ran out
For there are some things
You can't fool about
And the lines do draw a parallel
Right between fact and fiction
So the honest truth cannot yell
Over blind conviction
- Álbum:
- We Come Apart
- This Storm
- Words Came Back To Me
- Miscellaneous
- Convict of Conviction
- Jazzism 4
- Words Came Back To Me (International Version)
- Paste Magazine Sampler #21: Apr-May 2006
- Cold Day
- Cities 97 Sampler, Volume 18
- Give US Your Poor: 17 New Recordings to Help End...
- 429 Records All-Stars
- New Music Sampler - Spring 2006
- Paste Magazine Sampler #48: November 2008
- Famous 6: The Finest Female Jazz Today
- Give Us Your Poor
- New Voices
- Let Me Go
- Here to There
- This Storm (Bonus Track Version)