Lotta Man (In That Little Boy)

His life is that blue bike, ball glove an' fishin' pole,
Tree-house, BB gun and band aid covered knees.
He does good deliverin' papers,
An' cuttin' grass for the neighbours,
Except for Widow Wilson: he cuts hers for free.
His little hands do a lot for a kid his age,
He puts one-tenth of his hard earned money,
In the offering plate each Sunday by his own choice.
There's a lotta man in that little boy.

Weekdays, he tries to sleep late:
Weekends, he's up at daybreak.
Him an' Roy wadin' in Cotton Creek.
That dog was like his brother:
You'd seen one, you'd see the other.
Cut one an' both of them would bleed.
Tires screamed, but that ol' truck couldn't stop.
There's the tree that he buried him under;
He made a cross from scraps of lumber,
An' on it carved: "God Bless ol' Roy."
There's a lotta man in that little boy.

There's a house, down where he goes fishin':
He told his Mom: "Those kids got nothin',
"And I don't need all these toys."
There's a lotta man.
(There's a lotta man. There's a lotta man.)
In that little boy

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[Verse 1] Yeah, never thoughts of suicide, I'm too alive But I still treat it likes it's do or die Even though dying isn't in the plans, But neither was making it and here

Well I wandered alone, Through a desert of stone, And I dreamt of my future wife. My sword's in my hand, And I'm next in command, In this version of Death called Life. My plate and

Це моя територія, це моя історія, Мого життя теорія, світ живу в якому я. Моя територія - чужа фобія, Світ живу в якому я. Якщо хтось запитається: де моя домівка, Де те місце з якого

now you look at youselfwith your cruel eyesand you don't like what you seeyou don't like what you areand your smile is a crimebecause you knowhow true it isthat everything

I never had no regrets boys not for nothin' I've done I owed the devil some debts boys and paid 'em all up but one And I don't even regret the livin'