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The metaphor of the bird is eternal As I stood in the bathroom with a 9 millimeter in my mouth Empty Henny bottle on the couch The mirror in front of me reflected everything I hated in those around me I felt like a hypocrite I wanted to fly away from it all The lies, the betrayal, the rage I felt To turn every page I'd ever written into flames and let it burn This is what it sounds like The streets cry When the streets cry I'm startin' to think that this is all my fault Niggas under them hoodies, we above the law How could I think that we wouldn't get judged at all? Always in the club when them guns go off Layin' under that preacher when he talk that talk My mother is thinkin', where did it all go wrong? Father thinkin' if he spent more time I coulda played ball The pain won't inspire, things we lost in the fire Things we lost in the fire The things we lost in the fire Hope this pain will inspire, the things we lost in the fire (fire) Yeah, yeah The things we lose in the fire (yeah) Oh, oh From Letras Mania