I don't mind when it strikes and it hurts
Eighty miles per hour
It won't ache it won't irk

Discover when you've been lied to
And the ones with blood on their hands
Just wipe it on your face and kiss your cheek

I don't mind when it wounds and it shoots
The alcohol tastes so sour
Though it claws at the memory from its roots

And the times spent in your room
Dissolve with the tears from the fumes

Sons of bedeviled thorns and pistols
They take you in
And they swallow you whole
They take a shot
At your chest, at your brain
They take a shot
And they can't really explain

Hotels filled with lonely corpses
A beautiful face seems the only source
That might get you out of your mind
When you are sick and you are lying

Discover that the ones with blood on their hands
Are the only ones who take a stand
With their sins and knives behind their backs
And a smile, and a laugh,
You have to know where you're at

You spell an apology letter by letter
Yet the sky would know better
Than to clear up on a day like today
When it can strike your soul
So fragile and so frail
And your hands
So skinny and so pale
And your smell
So old and so stale
And your heart
I can almost hear it fail

There's no light at the end of that tunnel
There's no mercy for merciless gunner
Maybe next time they'll think ahead
Before their words shoot you dead

But right now I don't mind
If it stabs from behind
Eighty miles per hour
And I still can't race past my mind

And right now don't you mind
Of your hit and run
Are you blind
To the damage done
I hope the sound of the drums
Drowns your cries
Where my soul once lied.
                                             *p.t.