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No Scheme (Explicit) - For Those I Love
Composed by：David Balfe
Produced by：David Balfe
This trade wasn't made to be equal
Is it the pain of the past or from the bane of the sequel?
To your grave there's no way for this day to be peaceful
And you're told to just get along with it
Class traitor see my face in the papers
Don't ask me again what man I'm forced to have hate for
A mother draped in shame that'll finally take her
And now she's crying on Instagram Live
I complained of the man I thought I became
A little ways from the lanes I don't remember their names
This pain is covered in an ortolan shame
But it's the same cloth that I clean the blood with
Is there a clue to who grew the cursed youth?
When friends I knew never grew and wound up lost and abused
Neck in noose and it's WhatsApp groups full of half truths
Boys get beat black and blue and then that video gets sent to you
I won't seal my fate with the weight of others
Reveal your place or displace my brothers
I won't feel no hate or debase our mothers
And I'm not alone here
I won't heal my ways when the days are numbered or
Steal your place when your race is running
It's just searing pain in the graves of lovers
We're not alone here
The lads from my teens all made peace with their scenes
They gave up on their dreams to move their Ma out the scheme
No silver gold and green life above their means
Driven mad by phone scams and every day still spent on Facebook
I get it I do
Some lost search for the truth
They politically horseshoe youths like recruits
For what died the sons of no scheme?
Relocation dreams levelled by the cruel blue seas
And these cunts will do nothing to greet you I'm sorry
This city needs a saviour
Pray for the guilty and their cutthroat behaviour
There's rent to pay so I trade my soul in as labour and stay for the hope of what might be
I make peace with the pugilism behind me and I gnash teeth at the feudalism arriving
A city that's lost its shape held together by surveillance and vapes
With some distant memory of a better past
Overpriced rent took to task and Ma's on the frontlines of the boycotts
Now I'm reading comment section politics from genocidal hollow pricks
I'm sick get me out of here please
I'm thirty-two with acne thirty-two with no gaff to back me
And everyone else I know seems to feel the same as me
I said I'm sick thick prick get me out of here please
A wasted life of 9 to 5 so we can deal with the squeeze
We seize the means of chronic boredom from the bourgeoisie
Then feel the grip of wasted time just as we struggle to breathe
And when your day ends and you fall into bed
Hold your face in your hands to fight to hell in your head
And your pray for a change and then you dream and pretend
Then tomorrow arrives and you do it again
Because my lads aren't hopping out of cars anymore
My lads don't drink to death in bars anymore
My lads don't dice themselves with scars anymore
We've all got real jobs and we're bored
My friend still watches over me we found our freedom in the sea
The cold will crush my smoker's lungs just as it forces me to breathe
Pull the air in call me Donnie Deathwish
New set list and a smack of an empty hearse what a way to go
But still I feel the blood of my forefathers through me
I still see their marks that they left in the stone
Would they be ashamed of my moves if they knew me?
For the trades I've made just to stay where I'm from
