|
Crying alone, there's a fragile life |
|
You can paint the picture pretty |
|
But the stories is no disguise |
|
It's only getting later now |
|
And you may come away through time |
|
The silver spoon won't feed your friends |
|
'Cause life taste bitter when you eat with your hands |
|
Count me in and I'll be the one |
|
To take the knife out of your spine |
|
'Cause I know you'd be the first |
|
To bury the blade deeper into mine, into mine |
|
You've never know this charming life |
|
You can write the perfect setting |
|
But the story, I'm not buying |
|
We're only getting older now |
|
And you can come away through time |
|
The silver spoon won't feed your friends |
|
'Cause life taste bitter when you eat with your hands |
|
Count me in and I'll be the one |
|
To take the knife out of your spine |
|
'Cause I know you'd be the first |
|
To bury the blade, to bury the blade |
|
I'm counting on you to bury the blade |
|
Count me in and I'll be the one |
|
To take the knife out of your spine |
|
'Cause I know you'll be the one |
|
To bury the blade but she's still mine |
|
Count me in and I'll be the one |
|
To take the knife out of your spine |
|
'Cause I know you'd be the first |
|
To bury the blade deeper into mine |
|
Count me in, count me in |
|
Count me in, count me in |
|
To bury the blade deep in your spine |
