May 28, 2007

• Yea here we go for the hundredth time,
  Hand grenade pins in every line,
  Throw ‘em up and let something shine.
  Going out of my fucking mind.
  Filthy mouth, no excuse.
  Find a new place to hang this noose.
  String me up from atop these roofs.
  Knot it tight so I won’t get loose.
  Truth is you can stop and stare,
  bled myself out and no one cares.
  Dug a trench out, laid down there
  With a shovel up out to reach somewhere.
  Yea someone pour it in,
  Make it a dirt dance floor again.
  Say your prayers and stomp it out,
  When they bring that chorus in.
  

  
  I bleed it out.
  Go, stop the show.
  Chop your words in a sloppy flow.
  Shotgun opera, lock and load,
  Cock it back and then watch it go.
  Mama help me, I’ve been cursed,
  Death is rolling in every verse.
  Candypaint on his brand new hearse.
  Can’t contain him, he knows he works.
  F*** this hurts, I won’t lie.
  Doesn’t matter how hard I try.

  Half the words don’t mean a thing,
  And I know that I won’t be satisfied.
  So why, try ignoring him.
  Make your dirt dance floor again.
  Say your prayers and stomp it out,
  When they bring that chorus in.

  • 11:32 am
  • 2 Comments