EAST-END HARD

When your born east-end hard
Your postal code is the death card
You think you might get away
East-end hard is with you to stay
Run, flee and try to change
You will never be out of range
Fight, fuck, kill and steal
Just a spoke on the wheel
5 years, 10 years, 15 years or such
When I get home nothings changed much
Half of my life I spent away
An old friends death brought me home today
Back-slaps, hand-pumps and hugs all around
Did we forget about the guy in the ground
Way to much time alone to think
About my life lived on the brink
It seems that until the end I am in
Always snake-eyes I will never win
At the start of my story I said
East-end hard stops when your dead