is it my fault,
that that’s what you grew up to be?
did we play too much army?
let you touch too much of me?
we were only seven darling,
always down the street running,
did you ever know?
of your daddy screaming
our buddy bleeding
your mommy’s drinking
of our glasses shattering?
or were you blind like me, too?
was there something i could have done, if my eyes were open too?

A tavern built on misdeeds and insurrection,
House of rascals, whisky and imperfection
A hideaway for rebels and racketeers,
Where drinks are served to outlaws and mutineers,
Where the pianist plays for pirates and privateers,
Where the wicked and the wayward can be served,
And are respected however undeserved.

It’s a rag-tag bunch of outlaws and anarchists,
A cavalcade of rough revolutionists,
So come on in my dear insurrectionist,
Welcome to our lawless little band,
Welcome to the Tavern of the ******.

Come and join our banished battalion,
Join our cause, oh revered rapscallion,
So calling out to nature’s abominations,
We’ve got bourbon, bombshells and indignation,
Come and wait for imminent and sure damnation,
No matter what your deviance may be,
Come and join the drunken reverie.

It’s a monument to lost souls and deviants,
A shrine to every small disobedience,
A riotous, cathartic experience,
Where radicals are safe from reprimand,
Welcome to the Tavern of the ******.

Welcome back, my worshipped renegade,
To the place where freedom’s sweet as lemonade,
Where skanks and outlaws, sing so intoxicated,
The anthem of the unkempt and agitated,
The mantra of the evil and of the hated,
Laughing as they sing their merry tune,
Unified by their impending doom.

It’s a testament to chaos and anarchy,
A haven for the worst of humanity,
A house of lawlessness and profanity,
Welcome to our lawless little band,
Welcome to the Tavern of the ******.

She didn’t do it
I scream I scream
She couldn’t have done it
What do you mean

They show me the pictures
The pictures of her
They are the pictures
Of her in her fur

She’s a fashionable girl
They say to my cries
Must have gotten it from you
But the pictures are lies

I refuse to believe
Believe that she did it
There’s no **** way
They wait outside a bit

They’re wrong so so wrong
She’s not a murderer, doesn’t even own a ****
No she’s not the criminal in this family
I’ll prove them wrong, prove it was me

The kitchen drawer opens, no time to smile
I walk past the table, walk past the file
I slit the knife across
No apologies; it’s their loss

Wise men teach us
to discuss
about how important is
to do some studies and analyses,
just to know,
where our roots came from.
So, I’ve done a DNA test.
Guess!

Are you aware
- do you really care -
that your destiny
is, as the wise men said, in history?
Don't you know?
Man, don't be low!
So, I’d enrolled in the army.
Funny?

I went to war
to save and protect my DNA's pure core;
Since then I do sins
and I ****
different types of enemies
with unknown identities.
That is my duty,
Isn't beauty?

Isn't fun?
But now, I'm done.
Guess what I think I am:
a cruel criminal?
a modest hero?
Anyway, nobody will see tomorrow
how I will vanished, surprisingly,
In a outlandish history.

before you
I was hitting carts on the occasional weekend
sorta disloyal to my boyfriend
had a hunger for bullets
that were just begging to fly
and everyday, fighting with my mom made me cry

but then you pulled up on the weekends
started showing me a better life
I was falling out of windows and climbing in your car
started going back to your place
******* off that one roommate
and doing **** I've never done before
we might have taken things too far

when you
pulled up and rolled up
we sparked up
and curled up
we never went out
stayed home
and made out

and we crossed a good line or two
or three
but what the hell
it never bothered me
until we cut a good line or two
or three
soon enough I wasn't only smoking ****
I still thinks its funny how you don't like to drink