one who separate them. In a cold memories rest in peace the soul of our love give us a reason to carry on She?ll fight for you And the brave of her eyes
fickle, we ain't promised to play The last of the greats, pay homage to me [Joe Budden:] If my past had a encore, it be like a onslaught A lot of niggas
loans Ancient TV's, rotary telephones But within this misty cave Lies a painter, blind but brave Paints the story of where we've been Where we are, where we could be
a moth to the flame. [Roxie Hart] A moth? [Billy Flynn] Now I am a man who will assist and you're a butterfly. Crushed on a wheel! [Roxie Hart] Wait
will be triumphant. Many will perish, but Magica and our souls cannot be restored until three days have passed. Take heart my friends. Victory awaits you.a
We fell to our knees, feverishly praying The salt in the salt-peter seemed to be saying Be brave, be brave. I reached reached for a robe, I preached and
we ain't promised to play The last of the greats, pay homage to me [Joe Budden:] If my past had a encore, it be like a onslaught A lot of niggas died
