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• Artiste: Kevin Atwater
• Titre: Call Of Duty
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I'm washing my hands, I feel dirty, unkept and unclean There's fake blood soaked into my jeans and my body My mom doesn't like it, her boy’s being violent She said "Why do you have to die in the movies you make with my sons? And why with a gun?" and I'm stuck at the question Stuck and my childhood is ending in silence Ending with my mother crying A story I've never forgot, her mom, the car, the lot The church, the shot, my mom, twenty-one I’ll never throw a punch, I’ll never touch a gun, even a fake one I'm washing my hair, three roommatеs in Washington Heights They're fast asleep in thе night and it's late I try not to wake them A towel in my mouth to help with the pain from my head A man threw a bottle in front of the huge pentecostal And called me a word that I used to take straight to my heart When I tell it now, I skip around and leave out that part A story I've never forgot, the word, the heights, the cross The church, the night, my age, twenty-one I’ll never throw a punch, I’ll never touch a gun Even if I could've used one They put up a painting of my grandmother in a museum It felt good to see it, we'll cook her recipes this holiday season I'll think of the man who attacked without reason No recognition to be seen in his eyes He's talking to no one and picking a fight with a statue of christ I remember that night I wanted to hurt him But he wouldn't deserve it He wouldn't deserve it He wouldn't deserve it