"On My Own" genre: Rap
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	MP3.com CD: Truth Is Harder Than Diamonds - buy it! CD: Truth Is Harder Than Diamonds   Label: Bliss Credits: Written, produced and performed by Meta!
	Lyrics Verse 1 I curse the skies for waking up/ my physical space is unnecessarily taken up/ Another day, another holler/ the devils waiting outside my front door to yoke a brother in the collar/ Phone ringing is meaningless/ my flat is jacked up, cracked up, no visitors are seeing this/ As if I had any to begin with/ its just bill collectors trying to get a grip/ This dusty cubby hole is my world/ the only kind of beings I dig outside are squirrels/ The last time the sun touched my face/ I was a card-carrying member of the human race/ Were all shoulder to shoulder in this world/ whether musty and grimy or jags and pearls/ Were born alone, we die alone/ at the end of the day Im on my own/ Sax Chorus Verse 2 You might see it my way/ if you ever had the worlds traffic blowing by you on the highway/ As rain water floats your spare tire/ and under your smashed hood the engines on fire/ Your deltoid burns from holding your thumb out/ To avoid picking you up, a Vette spun out/ Your cell phone battery is shot/ rain water mixed with your salty snot/ Your screams are drowned out by the thunder/ sheets of rain blind you like Stevie Wonder/ The smell of auto exhaust lingers/ blaring horns and brat kids middle fingers/ Were all shoulder to shoulder in this world/ whether musty and grimy or jags and pearls/ Were born alone, we die alone/ at the end of the day Im on my own/ Chorus Verse 3 From my hole in the wall, to a stormy road/ to my death bed beeping with no hand to hold/ For health purposes hospitals are cold/ Im shivering like a leaf, nerves out of control/ A bright light illuminates a black tunnel/ my hospital robe flaps like I behold an F5 funnel/ All the doctors, nurses and interns have vanished/ not to scream is all I can manage/ Im staring through the portal of death/ and I thought that on me God wasted good breath/ What was my life for?/ what was I made to be a punching bag and object of hot spite for?/ Were all shoulder to shoulder in this world/ dusty and grimy or jags and pearls/ Were born alone, we die alone/ in facing my maker Im on my own/ Sax Chorus

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