A Taste Of Your Own Medicine
You're about to feel
I've been writing words that mean a bit of nothing
Just
The ties that bind our hands are on our necks
And
Footseps marching.
And the soft angel.
Voices singing to the sound of
Wait near the fire, take another breath
Let the beat get
Have you been waiting for death?
Because you'll dine out way
In this life that we ride my feet are just
Meet me at the shore or should it be halfway
I've been thinking about something in our past.
Words you said
There's blood on my hands
And there's blood on the ground
And
There are secrets that we've been keeping, on fire in
When you speak you might as well be spitting in
It would take an army of angels to restore her
With my hands under my belt, and my neck so
So write it down in lover's blood.
There's gotta be a
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