I've rolled my window down,
|
Streets breeze right through my hair,
|
I eye the town ahead,
|
will things be different there?
|
|
With thoughts like these my senses dim,
|
I hope you can catch my drift,
|
|
Mark My Words
|
Your fists can't keep me from the door
|
Mark My Words
|
I feel these streets more than I feel God Mark My Words
|
who do you think broke in these boots?
|
Mark My Words...
|
|
And on that faithful day,
|
you told me I "forgot my roots",
|
but with tempests endured,
|
Hell - I've got nothing to prove to you.
|
|
-----------------
|
Mark My Words
|
| Malice In Leatherland |
