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You'll find the cross only fits, |
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When your hands and feet are nailed to it. "Can we get a picture with the pauper, And another with the prince?" |
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Ma'am, He's got your daughter wrapped in his fist. |
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To the boys and girls, |
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He's alabaster, |
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But to his brothers, just another bastard. |
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With a story about a girl; enough to make you sick, |
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And how she made him king of her gracious hips, |
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She's found a way to crown his fingertips. |
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Let's show them where the bad ones go. |
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Another case of a sheep bearing a broken nose. |
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Let's show them where the bad ones go. |
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Color you criminal, paint black lines on your bones. |
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Wake all the children from their sleep |
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He's robbing pillow-cased dreams and selling cheap. |
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What lives below? |
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He wouldn't know. |
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So let's tell them where the bad ones go... |
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You curse the tail between your legs; |
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Blue faced and black jawed, |
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Your innocent eyes rotted from your bedroom in the night. |
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A lesson from the learned: |
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If your skin won't fit, |
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Don't seal your soul just yet. |
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If the herd is the temptation that the faithless can't evade, "We ate all forbidden grapes and retreated to the vineyard, To the void in which we dwell With a tortured youth and heartaches we'll sell I'll be the blood and body if you'll ring that bell." |
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You'll go down in history |
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With notebooks, pens, and melodies. |
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But you're running from all of us. |
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You're running from all of us. |
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You're running from all your love. |
