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