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  • Michael Shynes
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  • Back to 95
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Home by Michael Shynes

Home

Song by Michael Shynes

Back to 95
Album
Back to 95

Mood

Sad
Uplifting
Powerful
Dramatic
Serious
Carefree
Exciting
Hopeful

Instrument

Piano
Vocal
Keys
Claps & Snaps
Percussion
Bells
Electronic Drums
Acoustic Guitar
Synth

Video Theme

Lifestyle
Fashion
Road Trip
Slow Motion
Time-Lapse
Drone Shots
Urban
Landscape

Genre

Singer-Songwriter
Pop
Electronic
Indie

BPM

107
Ain’t scared of nothing, I was born in hell, We got the heat the sinners and the devil as well
This kind of town it just fans the flame, It don’t mean nothing unless the world knows your name
And my friend plays a mean guitar, he writes the riffs and I sing the bars and
We practice in abandoned railroad cars, we sound like trash but think we’re superstars

We were just young dreaming the dream, and trying to make our name up on that local scene
'Til late one night when my friend left town, and I started hearing music without the sound
Saving money, working the drive thru, singing through the speaker will that be all for you
Cashed it in and I bought that ride, just a pen, a paper and my girl at my side

Been searching and I meant to find it, but every curtain got a ghost behind it
Hear the voice of my Grandma saying go, but son if you make it don’t forget about home
Getting high getting drunk every weekend, behind my girl's back I’ve been sneaking
Hear the voice of my father saying son, it don’t mean shit unless you hit number one

And New York City is a den of thieves, I can’t afford to live, I can’t afford to breathe
Along that barrel I would scrape and scrape until that beautiful day I went and made that mix tape
Label man says there’s just too much sound, its too personal can you water it down
Forget that I’m just gonna put this thing out, let the universe decide if I should wear the crown

I went and made it I don’t know how, back home can you see me now
Whole world can you see me now, long enough for you to put your iPhone down
Grandmama there’s my name in lights, selling out arenas on a Tuesday night
Swore at your I’d take us far, still sound like trash but I’m a superstar

Been searching and I meant to find it, but every curtain got a ghost behind it
Hear the voice of my Grandma saying go, but son if you make it don’t forget about home
Getting high getting drunk every weekend, behind my girl's back I’m still sneaking
Hear the voice of my father saying son, you’re just like me all you ever did was run