the days
Im spittin´ words, from the street and the curbs/
Music who lives on, stuck on tracks you´ve never heard/
You never learned, to set the records straight/
Never learned to play the records like they played them in the old days/
The old face, still reminds the time/
Reminds the lines of the good old rhymes/
And vibes, we step a side/
Dreams come alive, feels the jhive and then pass us by/
But I, remember time and place/
Forgotten thoughts and words, but I still found a trace/
Of the good old days, the good old times/
The good old music, the good old wine/
It´s the signs, we know from the past/
Exept for thoose who never know what a life they had/
What a blast, for all that bean gone/
I sit down in my coutch, and put a record on/