(Music com­ing soon…)

I’m a gun in your mouth
Got a taste for it now
Just a taste

Feed the motions, play the script
Go from waste to savour to plain get rid of it
Start again

Sign the hole and hide your head
Till the guilt lies cold and dead
Way too tired to find a rhyme
And it’s only half past nine

And this damn days done
And my weak­ness won
Draw the blinds way down
Till the sleep takes over

And I’ll charge my day
Till I get my change
From the part I paid
In advance I’ll pay you back in time

Hold aloft your descend­ing pride
As you know you might
Lose your grip and try

To review your faith entire­ly
As your com­mon sense has retired
And the plates keep spin­ning every night
Cho­rus a wretched and crash­ing sound


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