Paranoia

I keep it all matched up. My feelings all boxed up. Used to play with matchbox, while my grandma high watching cops, its ironic because the rock that she's smoking is the same one they're showing. All these people cuffs to wrists, then they're locked up and thrown in. But please lord forgive, she only has three cents to live, if she isn't already dead. This is the truth. Haven't heard from, haven't even spoke to her. I remember being on Polk with her posted like some go getter's, really she's the go getter. Trapped in the projects searching for a one-hitter. Forget a baby sitter, found her across the street at Richard's. Smell of ammonia leaking from the cracks and ceilings, paranoia that the rock was giving, thought evil was trying to snatch and get them. Oh shoot come sit little man. The boogie-woogie is trying to take you away from the land. I was only ten, only wish my grandma knew that stuck with me as a kid. But screw it this music is my shrink man.