HOME | DD

Description
I wish I could whistle or sing,
or do any of that sort of thing.

But all I have for my friends
to make amends
is what's left of my poor brain,
for I used to be spruce
till I bumped me caboose
by standing to fast on the train.

The ceiling was low.
The bumps they did grow.
Oh if only I'd walked instead.
My mouth might work,
my brain won't hurt
whenever I use my head.

To whistle would be great,
to sing a delight,
but I fear it's too late
to put what's left right
Still I try
with what's left of my mind
to wait on the jury
for what verdict they find.

And I wish I could whistle or sing,
for these are two wonderful things.

To push and blow
with those lips dextrous, oh!
I think I would be quite well known.
Well I might feel sane,
if it wasn't for my brain,
my mouth would not feel like it's got novacaine.

But still it'd be nice if I could whistle or sing,
for these are among my favourite things.

Cause everyone and their aunt
can skip and dance,
but I need to carry a note.
To feel I belong,
I need to sing a good song,
even if it's one that I wrote.

One can't relate
to words on a page
quite as well if it's sung.
My mouth won't work.
My brain still hurts
whenever I use my lungs.

To whistle would be fine,
to sing would be grand,
but it's not a good sign
when your mouth's full of sand.
Still I wait
longing to see,
If they'll come back and say
"He's Guilty".

*Free-style Gansta rap*

Eye wish Eye could whistle or sing,
fo tha be my type o bling

I'd bust a mean beat
and keep crime on the street,
snatching some cheap ass ho.
I'd drag her to my pad
and spank her, just a tad,
then I'd be the shiznay fo sho

I'd make da bitch sing,
but Oh I'd join in,
then maybe I'd whistle way up high.
Then I watch me some Hong Kong Fooey
and maybe some empty vee tooey,
cause pimp my ride be so fly.

2 whistle would be supagud
2 sing would be bo
but I'm not in the hood
but surrounded by 5-0
Might be doing some time,
I'm still up on trial,
So I'm slamming some rhyme,
till my homies get my style.

*Beatbox Solo*

*...and return...*

Oh I wish I could whistle or sing
cause then you could hear this song I'm writing.

But what can I do?
Can't even keep one simple tune,
just try to keep moving on.
And try to get by
in this world with a sigh
since my singing voice went gone.

I stick to my pen
and remember way back when
I could really belt it out.
But now I can't say much
because of this crutch
firmly lodged in my mouth.

To whistle would be nice.
To sing would be dope,
But now I think twice
when I drop the soap.
But I wait and wait
till they forget about that kid I hit.
Then I make probate,
I'll hunt down and beat on that idiot.

FOR I CAN'T WHISTLE
FOR I CAN'T WHISTLE
OOOOORRRR SIIIIIIIIING
unless I'm doing the bending.

Description
I wish I could whistle or sing,
or do any of that sort of thing.

But all I have for my friends
to make amends
is what's left of my poor brain,
for I used to be spruce
till I bumped me caboose
by standing to fast on the train.

The ceiling was low.
The bumps they did grow.
Oh if only I'd walked instead.
My mouth might work,
my brain won't hurt
whenever I use my head.

To whistle would be great,
to sing a delight,
but I fear it's too late
to put what's left right
Still I try
with what's left of my mind
to wait on the jury
for what verdict they find.

And I wish I could whistle or sing,
for these are two wonderful things.

To push and blow
with those lips dextrous, oh!
I think I would be quite well known.
Well I might feel sane,
if it wasn't for my brain,
my mouth would not feel like it's got novacaine.

But still it'd be nice if I could whistle or sing,
for these are among my favourite things.

Cause everyone and their aunt
can skip and dance,
but I need to carry a note.
To feel I belong,
I need to sing a good song,
even if it's one that I wrote.

One can't relate
to words on a page
quite as well if it's sung.
My mouth won't work.
My brain still hurts
whenever I use my lungs.

To whistle would be fine,
to sing would be grand,
but it's not a good sign
when your mouth's full of sand.
Still I wait
longing to see,
If they'll come back and say
"He's Guilty".

*Free-style Gansta rap*

Eye wish Eye could whistle or sing,
fo tha be my type o bling

I'd bust a mean beat
and keep crime on the street,
snatching some cheap ass ho.
I'd drag her to my pad
and spank her, just a tad,
then I'd be the shiznay fo sho

I'd make da bitch sing,
but Oh I'd join in,
then maybe I'd whistle way up high.
Then I watch me some Hong Kong Fooey
and maybe some empty vee tooey,
cause pimp my ride be so fly.

2 whistle would be supagud
2 sing would be bo
but I'm not in the hood
but surrounded by 5-0
Might be doing some time,
I'm still up on trial,
So I'm slamming some rhyme,
till my homies get my style.

*Beatbox Solo*

*...and return...*

Oh I wish I could whistle or sing
cause then you could hear this song I'm writing.

But what can I do?
Can't even keep one simple tune,
just try to keep moving on.
And try to get by
in this world with a sigh
since my singing voice went gone.

I stick to my pen
and remember way back when
I could really belt it out.
But now I can't say much
because of this crutch
firmly lodged in my mouth.

To whistle would be nice.
To sing would be dope,
But now I think twice
when I drop the soap.
But I wait and wait
till they forget about that kid I hit.
Then I make probate,
I'll hunt down and beat on that idiot.

FOR I CAN'T WHISTLE
FOR I CAN'T WHISTLE
OOOOORRRR SIIIIIIIIING
unless I'm doing the bending.