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Lower Allston |
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Rising The music's made on |
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Boston's dejected streets |
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In polluted rooms and sweat dripping ceilings |
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We come together, defiance on the road |
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But the freeway can be brutal with no dosh or a home yeah |
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Music, a steady riot in my soul |
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My buddy Johnny, he can never get up |
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But it's him who should be admired |
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Not those fame driven shmucks |
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Works at a bar, gives me pints and free eats |
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I swear, Johnny alone feeds the |
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Allston music scene |
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And then there's |
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Sudz, yeah he can get bummed |
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After a long night of drinking in that rude riot fun |
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But it's easy to get down when you view life as a stray |
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But my man he brings me up |
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I should tell him one of these days |
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Music, a steady riot in my soul |
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Always in me |
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Just walking back from |
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Central Square |
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Thinking about what |
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I heard this smart guy share |
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S'like there's a time to drink and to dream |
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Then create and complete |
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My life, resistant words, a good riff and a beat |
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A steady riot |
