paroles de chanson Where Did the Sun Go - Foreign Beggars feat. Anik & Tommy Evans

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Quiet nights of quiet stars
The quiet chords from my guitar
Floating on the silence that surrounds us

Ayo, where did the sun go?
Erased by the cars
Haze and gun smoke
Through the rain as I speak my bars
The light of my streets that leads to the stars
The air that we breathe is poisin and
People wear fake tan to avoid the sun
Like a demon child that destroys it's mum
Eaten up from the inside like horsemen
And draw in my lungs are jet black and cancerous
Gasoline, nicotine and Ganja spliffs
Damage is done like when arms handlers
Had me praying for change like a thousand mantises
[?] salute the righteous
Dark circling computer nightmares
We cruise lightyears
Recruiting the future fighters

I write the sickest raps to bring it back to the natural elements
Iller than twisted cats and twenty kids in backward settlements
Settling for less than ten pence for a day's wage
It's this rap game's bater than [?] racial hatred
With thoughts contagious we're spawning new waves of anger
Damaging [?] none the wiser
I flow two rival tides in a divided ocean
Riding the undercurrents your bodies writhe with contrived emotion
Surviving the vital potion
Liquid stores of frozen soul food
Holding the pole position [?]
But I'm sure [?] cycle and will be forgotten
Confided in dry tears when the ways of the mind's rotten
Fight for the common cause and the plight for the divine brother
Whose only hope to find soul [?] at the bottom of [?] gutter
If only truths were uttered every time our mouths were open
We'd be halfway to the promised land with the vision of [?] broken

I'm a starving artist who harnessed the force of the beat
I talk to my peeps who walk in their sleep
Through dimly lit Victorian streets
Where the law of the beasts is enforced by police
Ignoring the tricks and silent screams
Violent scenes, grey smoke [?] sun's vibrant beams
Tyrants seek to make loot in grey suits
Caught in the same loop but can't break loose
The hate the hate produced takes root, shapes youths
And grows into Billie Holiday's strange fruit
The rotten apple he picked from the trees
The sickened disease
To it's pips and it's seeds
The wickedest thieves
Trick and deceive
The victims bereaved
Mans are addicted to green
But wealth corrupts
Til you self-destruct
Our [?] is to uplift and help you up
What