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He was a dealer of dirty jokes,Breathing unfiltered Camel smokeEverything he said was a lie,But he had me by the rope,The noose around my neckWith every yawning story that he toldBut I still listen dear, with bended ear,Hoping I'd come closeTo touch the truth and hit the rootOf the life that he'd livedHe never ran guns or shot poolWith any famous chicks,Phil Spector wasn't his bitch,Waiting on his lipsFor a little bit of cocaine,Or brace for a beautiful witchI know my words'll slip,And I know I tell a couple lies,I'm known to accentuate, exaggerateIn stories all the time,And I wonder why? Will it magnifyBy the time I reach fifty?And realize my life never turned outThe way I planned it simply?So I gotta stretch the truth,Letras de cancionesAnd tell the things I never did,Until I'm running guns with Saddam HuseinAnd all the stupid kidsSo I wonder why he'd tell those liesAnd breathe it down my neck,A bunch of foul smoke inside of my earsOn whiskey breathAnd I'm sitting here, a little kidRight in front of his chairTelling him "Another story,Come on, uncle, bend my friggin' earI wanna hear the tale,Tell me time again and over nowHow you were running drugsAcross the borderFrom the north on downTo Alaska, on the oil pipelineAnd into Canada, taking 'em downInto Washington state and doing damageTo the brain that God gave him"Wondering what I understandIf you don't have the truth,How can I shake your hand?See, and I got a couple questionsThat make me a little curious, homie,If'n the story make the manWhen the man makes up the story?There was never stolen cars,There was always a couple bars,There was eyes full of stars,And a lackluster fall of ____ (ours?)And everything I understoodThat you'd done with your lifeHas all just been sacrificedUpon the cross of Truth tonightSee, I've seen it allBreaking down, a sad old manWith a couple bruised rib cagesAnd a shaky left handHis beard is scraggly,The top of his head is going baldAnd it's all peeling away,Falling back with the stories that he toldAnd I wonder whereI can find the truth inside this nowIt's more than the toast,It's the crumbs of the motherfucker breaking downAnd watching after sixty-fiveYears upon this earthWhat happens to everythingThat you thought made up your worthAnd see I know, there's a couple bitsOf truth in all of thisThere was no stolen cars,There were a couple of stolen kissesA couple of illegitimate kids,A couple broken bottlesAnd all the time in prison,All the time inside the hospitalWas the thing that was real,Without the mass appealThe truth is always the ugliest sideSo you should polish it up for realAnd so it makes you wonderWhy would this mother fuckerTell me all these liesAnd pull the rug out under the covers?And I'm looking at him nowStaring inside his sunken eyesAnd realize beneath the bitter wisdomAnd super-sized guyHe's just an old man,Slow hand, stumbling breathJust trying to make it up the stairsWithout losing, pains in chestAnd I think,What will happen to me?When I wake up from this dreamAnd realize I'm twenty-four, see?And I got a couple years left,A couple beers left,A couple friends left,A couple grinding gears leftAnd I'm breaking sweat, wonderingOne day, I will be breaking down,Living in an old folk's townWearing my tattered, broken crownAnd I'll be waving my handFor servants thatAnswer no beckon call,Because everyone has leftStanding me holding my ballsAnd I got to make ends meetIn this thing I call my lifeThe bitter circle ring that made meBack to the beginning, right,I started to help this babyEnd it this way in a wheelchair maybeAnd now I gotta act,Maybe explaining the wayThat I was so crazyI tell you why I livedThis stupid lie that I did,And all the time I spentChasing around girls and chicks,And all the time that ain't for shitYou told me the truth,The truth is you can't lieIf you gotta try to produce,BecauseLife'll bite youIn the ass in the endThen you're standing there,On the corner,Without any friendsBecause all your friends knowWhat happens after it's doneBecause at least one person was thereTo witness all the truth, son From Letras Mania