I could give you a dozen
Fresh cut, pink, or red, or white
I wonder if they knew what they
Would grow to become
You’ll have to cut it down
And burn me into splinters
Or I’ll unwrap the string
That was me,
Around your finger.
And I’ll hang you in
Your bedroom burial ground
There is a taste for blood
And it’s something deep inside
There is a taste for blood
And it’s deep inside
I don’t ever want god
To hear our screams
And mistake them for prayers.
And you know I’m loaded
But not which chamber
Touch me and I’ll go
Click click click click click
There is a taste for blood
And it’s something deep inside
There is a taste for blood
And it’s deep inside
I’m born villain
don’t pretend to be a victim
I’m born villain
don’t pretend to be a victim