Colors (original recording 1989)

Walking in the subway
Alone late at night
New York City gangs
Everywhere in sight

You feel their anger upon you
You feel their hateful eyes
Walk a little faster now
You're fighting for your life

As they walk on closer
Their eyes burn down your back
You feel a thousand cries
Not prepared for their attack

A mission bell sent sign
A sign that boards soon
You've come this far, no turning back
We hope you make it too

Don't expect sympathy
We don't know the word
You've walked my turf insanity
But in this place you die

Your life is wasted
Your blood is tasted
As it drips down the blade
You didn't make it

You couldn't take it
You walked the subway you paid
Your money's gone
Your clothes they're torn

You're lying in a pool of blood
You know you're leaving
We watch you grieving
But in this place you die

Don't expect sympathy
We don't know the word
You walked my turf insanity
But in this place you die



Credits
Writer(s): Jon Schaffer, Randall Scott Shawver
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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