They've been calling me the devil They've been calling me words I've been hanging with the rebels And I've been playing out the curse And now I'm pretty much dead I've got the noose around my head
You've got that fuck it kind of attitude There's no one else that you can really trust
Cause all the fruit Is rotting And all the groove Is to an end
Barrel of my gun is smoking While you lay there on the floor And all your lies have got you choking Got people banging on my door And now you're pretty much dead Gotta rest your weary head
You've got that fuck it kind of attitude There's no one out there you can really trust
Cause all the fruit Is rotting And all the groove Is to an end
You better get yourself outta town You better get your things and go Before I get myself outta town I'm gonna get my things and go
You better get yourself outta town You better get your things and go Before I get myself outta town I'm gonna get my things and go
Cause all the fruit Is rotting And all the groove Is to an endTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
