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100.000 Miles
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Michael Franti & Spearhead
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1
I need a reason to get up before I wash my face
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The junkies, the hookers, the dealers the place
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Kickin' off my covers, trippin' off the fact
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That I haven't called my gramma in a long, long time
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Standin' in the shower for almost half an hour
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Tryin' to wake up and I'm lookin' for the power
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Reachin' for the towel with soap in my eyes
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Dryin' off my shoulders, my chest and my thighs
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The next thing I know the telephone rings
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I hear my own voice on the answering machine
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Please leave a message, I'm glad ya called
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I listen for a voice but there's nothin' at all
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Man oh man, I gotta kick the blues
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And pay respect where respect is due
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All praises to GOD the one I return to
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The one I can turn to when I'm feelin' burned to the bone
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Early in the morn before I wash my face
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The bed is still warm but there's an empty space
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Early in the morn before I wash my face
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A hundred thousand miles is a lonely place
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At six in the morning she rolled outa bed
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Stared out the window and then she said that I wasn't her type
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I think she's runnin' outa types though and I told her so
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She picked up her things and walked through the door
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And then said that she couldn't see me no more
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Just as she was leaving I asked her if she'd call
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She didn't look back, said nuttin' at all
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I didn't change my clothes because they smell like you
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And when I took a shower it reminded me of you
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I called Gramma Brown for advice
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It happened to me once, it happened to me twice
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Michael my son you sound really bugged
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I wish that you were here so I could to you give a hug
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Then she gave me a long, long talk
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She said "You have the patience of ice on a sidewalk"
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When things get rough don't sweat it
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Sometimes in life you just have to let it
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And sing out a song so strong
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That even a bad dream couldn't bring harm
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To the mind of a young childs battles
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Formed from the candle light shadows
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Her voice is like a whispering kiss on the forehead
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Early in the morn before I wash my face
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The bed is still warm but there's an empty space
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Early in the mornin' before I wash my face
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A hundred thousand miles is a lonely place
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In the last thirty minutes before I fall asleep
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When I have said my prayers and I have brushed my teeth
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This is the time when I am forced to think about
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All of the things I been tryin' to forget about
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The bills, the phone, cleanin' up my room
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The cars, the traffic, the speakers and the boom
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Alone I remember the times with me and you
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And I realize my heart is shakin' up the room
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Gramma she would tell us about the glory days
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And Gramma she would tell us about when we were slaves
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In the livin' room pianos outa tune
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On top of it the pictures of every bride and groom
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Child, grand child, lost child
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Every single tear shed, every single smile
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'Cause everybod's got a lota shit to deal with
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And life doesn't stop it just makes ya feel it
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So shake the dust off a your feet
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Take a step forward, liberate with the beat
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So for you I wrote this song
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I wanted you to hear it before you are gone
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The African in me, the Seminole in me
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These are some a things my grandmother gave
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To me some believe there are and some believe there ain't
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If ever there was one my Gramma Brown she is a saint
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Early in the morn before I wash my face
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The bed is still warm but there's an empty space
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Early in the mornin' before I wash my face
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A hundred thousand miles is a lonely place
Michael Franti & Spearhead - Sound of Su...
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