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Summer comes to an end and
I think about all the ones I used to call friend
I think about what’d I do differently if I could try again
I think about how hard it is to be a real Christian
I’m sober now but not for long
Yeah, I know it’s wrong
Yeah mix it with some OJ and make it strong
Drinking to money problems and the future
Drunk texting through the blur
Remember when we first met
Remember how we were
She’ll never know how much I loved her
My pen full of stories of how it is to be black
White knives in every inch of my back
Now the color of ink makes sense
God help the land of the racists

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