Tonalité : A major•
Intro 1
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Verse 1
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Line them all up,
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shoot them down,
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one by one
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So little inspiration
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for my daughters and my sons
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Pro -life and pro -gun, if only they'd run
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Far, far away from this city of slums
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But the crime fits the bag
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and the boxes, they are empty
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Bm
And the blood dries
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And the blood dries
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I've cut out these pictures,
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pasted up their heads
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No extra dimensions, nothing near here
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On the scrapheap of thoughts,
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like nuclear waste
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Invisible toxins, in this sunny state
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But they can rise, and they're there,
Bm
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and the boxes, they are empty
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Bm
And the blood to rise
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And the blood to rise
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I lived in the big, big house
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By the bridge, but only for night
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And then I was disowned
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By the bump on the corner,
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by the drunk at the bar
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They answer my questions
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and they're still where they are
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The cigarettes hit the man
Bm
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and the boxes, they are empty
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And the blood runs
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Bm
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Esus4
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Thoughts are thieves,
robbing me of my peace
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Thoughts are thieves,
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robbing me of my peace
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My peace, my peace you
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