作曲 : Patrick Stickles
 作词 : Patrick Stickles

Why do you do the things you've done

And how dumb would you have to be

To do them again like I know you're going to

If you're the poet you say you are and beauty's in everything you see

Then how can love exist in a world run by people like you

Because when there's suffering you're there

From southern trees you hang them in the air

The world screams out in agony and you don't care

But should the shit hit the fan
I just pray you will not be spared

F**k you

You took a heart with so much room for love
And filled it with hatred and rage
Until there was nothing left but for it to shrivel up and die

People will tell you that if you don't love your neighbor
Then you don't love god

But no god of mine would put light in such unrighteous eyes

Now the way we hold each other so tight

Would look more like a noose if held up to the light

Because we betray each other in dreams every night

Now let's never speak of it again all right

All right

Even now I curse the day and yet I think

Few come within the compass of my curse

Wherein I did not some notorious ill

As kill a man or else devise his death

Ravish a maid or plot the way to do it
Accuse some innocent and forswear myself

Set deadly enmity between two friends

Make poor men's cattle break their necks
Set fire on barns and hay stacks in the night
And bid the owners quench them with their tears

Oft have I digged up dead men from their graves
And set them upright at their dear friends' doors
Even when their sorrows almost were forgot

And on their skins as on the bark of trees

Have with my knife carved in roman letters
Let not your sorrow die though I am dead

Tut I have done a thousand dreadful things

As willingly as one would kill a fly
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed

But that I cannot do ten thousand more