Hold on, Holy Ghost
Go on, hold me close
Better run, here we come
It's the day of the dead
We come from a world of oblivion, bad dreams
I got all I need strapped right to my hamstring
I'm not really bad, I'm just made up of bad things
I'm really not a mad man, the voices keep asking
Born with a soul that don’t wanna be saved
Every time I look around I see what a fiend made
Every time I die, I hope they digging up my grave
An undead one like the flag that I wave
I’m not afraid to cry from this ******* sickness
I’m not afraid to die, let the good book witness
I ask and give none, nope, no forgiveness
The day of the dead and you’re on our hit list
So come all you misfits
*****, you’re on our hit list
-Hollywood Undead