It’s hard to say what’s real these days My mind can be a dangerous place She’s too naive for suicide But god, I wish that bitch would die
Give me, give me, give me, give me a reason Why every night I’m losing sleep God damn, she’s on to me again Or maybe I had too much to drink You see I think I figured out I figured out as I was thinking How to stop her piercing voice From everything that she was stealing Get the gun, get the gun, get the gun Is all I’m hearing again and again you know
I used to be such a hopeless man And she used to be such a sweet, sweet thing
She’s too naive for suicide But god, I wish that bitch would die Shot gun shells, yeah it’s alright The whiskey says, “Let’s take her fuckin’ life”
One thing I do remember Is that things never get better And I got to make the voices, make the voices for the maker Of the maker making voices, making voices Gotta make her, gotta, gotta make her stop Before my head comes caving in again
You can walk this world all alone But I can still hear her, tearing me apart Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
