beware, beware out of their closets the skeletons are coming come down with me where the woods meet the water lets get away from your dirty little secrets
. You?ll get back what you ask for, but you won?t win this time. You won?t win. I'll shut you down. Game over. With silence broken, my tired voice can
i head for distant lands leaving my expenses forsake this land of plastic i would try to be something but you wont stop talking drifting for the farthest
my eyes, biting at my heart But ive got something to offer So this isnt a time to hide my hands Still i hide my heart, still i hide my heart This is
Got a brand new face So brittle it falls to pieces My bones are charred and soon I am ash And I'm clinging to All my self wickedness
So run away to find solace in the nothingness of running day to day. It?s over. Nothing is fine when the soles of your shoes are broken and you can?t
boys in an accountants hand Examples must be made! Discipline must be maintained! See, we're all a little mad here what a joy it is to kill all my hunger
Glorious light covers him tonight. Him: unaware and silent, six years old and sleeping. The rest of us: dying and waiting for him to grow old. Old enough
where you ready to die A million miles away, would you throw it all away? Simple dreams in the mainstream Is where the day takes you Simple dreams in
sun sinks into distant waters in the west and off to the east the green light shimmers admist the fog it stands desolate and harbors broken dreams which
you made my heart your home so i snuck up on the rooftop to peer down at you through the skylight to find that you were setting fires who sets fire to
Subtract the greed that spurs you on and there?s no room for them in your shitty scene. Feeding on a carcass to sustain a following. Nobody wins. You
"Look at me, when I talk to you." But my eyes can't bear the sight A white so brilliant it pains my heart but I can make you disappear I can make you
in my (who), jockin a (Mike Jones, Jones, Jones) Well I'm cruisin down the street in my candy painted low (low) bouncin like a door, with 4 on my 6
C'est le vent dans la plaine Qui souffle et qui fait revivre l'aigle Car les plumes de ses ailes Volent a nouveau au bout de mes tresses Tout ce que