Blood on your Hands

 

Put on your - fucking suite again, lap top and ballpoint pen

A nice day to leap forward

Over so many men, who thought you were a friend

Lie broken in the gutter

 

What goes around, (what goes around), comes back to you

The things you did or did not do

 

Hidden spikes in your gloves at the showdown

You might as well go and tear out my eyes again

 

Raise up your fists again, commence the lawyers in

A black day for all beneath you

It’s time to bend the truth, time to ignore the rules

It’s time to make them suffer

 

What goes around, (what goes around), comes back to you

The things you did or did not do

What goes around, (what goes around), comes back to you

The things you did or did not do

 

Hidden spikes in your gloves at the showdown

You might as well go and tear out my eyes again

 

Your blue eyes used to be, so tender, so beloved and

Your blue eyes turned to seem, so heartless, so corrupt and greased

So corrupt and greased, so corrupt and greased

 

So corrupt and greased

 

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