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      Basement

      Basement

      Bastille

      Album: Other People's Heartache

      Escuchar lo mejor de la musica de Bastille

      Bastille - Basement Música y Letra

      Greyhound, Megabus, clothes in a plastic bag,
      From shelter to shelter, six kids with no dad.
      She left the city for a better life,
      Ran to a small town where the population was mostly white.
      Racial undertones, trying to get back home,
      With barely enough to keep shirts on my backbone.
      Now ain't this real life, numb to what pain feel like.
      Demons knocking like the sound of steel pipes.
      Same lady who gave birth never left my hometown
      But she the reason I travelled the earth.
      Locked the door, my uncle's going through her purse.
      "Wake your brother up, they're giving free meals at church."
      And I can't justify how my daddy could black your eye,
      Now my sister can't trust a guy.
      We never had much, but we had us,
      And my brother found home in a pair of handcuffs.
      
      How am I gonna get myself back home?
      I-I-I, I-I-I, I-I-I
      
      The sound of bullets bounce as I write raps in the kitchen
      Daddy in a cell trying to hold his ambition
      Witness the transition from a boy to a martyr
      Sell dope but go to school to be a barber
      The ghetto's like a prison, you locked but you still living
      Barely breathing up until if you're leaving
      But home is where the hate is,
      And my cousin ain't thirty yet but she's got eight kids
      Half look up to me, but the other half rarely fuck with me
      'Cause apparently, they think I see myself as better
      I see my songs as simply therapy
      Now let's go back to that whole Greyhound bus bit
      Mama worked there for old white folks, wiping up shit,
      Tryna save ships, now close your eyes and envision
      How she turned a bus ride, into a spaceship
      
      How am I gonna get myself back home?
      I-I-I, I-I-I, I-I-I
      [x2]
      
      My home is comprised of many elements
      Grandaddy was a junkie and found home in a needle filled with daily medicine
      Home is far less based on physicality,
      (The birds are mocking me)
      But embracing the mentality that you can turn even the harshest conditions into an optimistic galaxy
      (They call to be heard)
      Come home daddy, it's okay now
      (The birds are mocking me)
      All the tears are dried up, mama's in a better place now
      No guns unless they're video games
      (They curse my return)
      But there's a darker side to sex, rock and roll and cocaine
      Come home
      
      How am I gonna get myself back home
      I, I, I am lost
      
      From the basement, to the ceiling
      Going back home to replace this feeling
      From the basement, to the ceiling
      Going back home to replace this feeling

      Bastille - Basement Música y Letra

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