|
See the man with the scar? |
|
He earns a whole lot'a money |
|
You won't find no trace of gunpowder |
|
On his hands |
|
See this muse in a dress? |
|
She's into guns 'n' honey |
|
He leaves her feelin' used in her own armour |
|
You can guess |
|
Well, under the rain |
|
Thunder is pain |
|
You see her nakedness in her dreams of home |
|
She was lost in love |
|
Is it the painlessness that feeds her so? |
|
See the man with the scar? |
|
He means a whole lot'a money |
|
The cash is soaked in race and a cruel wisdom |
|
He was playing poker with well laid plans |
|
He came from far away to claim his hand |
|
Well color is shame |
|
Under the rain |
|
You see his nakedness in his dreams of hope |
|
He was lost in blood |
|
Is it the shamelessness that bleeds him so? |
