SALVATION
There's a neighborhood called blackhwk where all the rich people hide
I was down on my luck working for the salvation army
The shelter is where I reside
Everyday we drive into blackhawk and we pic up the offerings
Microwave, refridgerator for the suffering
I can't believe these people live like kings
Hidden estates and diamond rings
I'm a rat out on a mission
I'm in your front yard under suspicion
Come on baby won't you show me what you got
I want your salvation
Writer(s): Timothy Armstrong, Roger Matthew Freeman
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