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