Behind the Music

I was five years old when my mama died All of the hospice and the service left me

traumatized

Had to burn the wound shut, talking Cauterize He couldn't hide it, there was pain in my

father's eyes Lost himself and custody, now he got a ride

Gave me birds as guardians, they was on the fly

Learned to stand up for myself, I never got a lie

If I ever called on God, I must have pocket dialed

Bounced around the family, then a foster child

Hard knock life; the way I acted wasn't dramatized

Took the hard way, I ain't follow signs Wrong path paved for me, walk along to find

I'm on borrowed time Realized I couldn't call it mine

So I had to make the best of what was given till they call it