| The attic was less to us than the cellar
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| If the bones liked the attic, let them have it
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| Let them stay in the attic. |
| When they sometimes
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| Come down the stairs at night and stand perplexed
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| Behind the door and headboard of the bed
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| Brushing their chalky skull with chalky fingers
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| With sounds like the dry rattling of a shutter
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| That’s what I sit up in the dark to say…
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| The first time, I didn’t even feel guilty
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| Never washed off, stayed bloody and filthy
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| Just laid there next to the kid all night
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| Kind of soaking it all in, and feeling alright
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| I wasn’t even old enough to drive yet, it was hell
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| I had to put him on my handlebars and dump him down a well
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| I try to feed of that until I couldn’t anymore
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| By my sixteenth birthday, my total had grown to four
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| I ain’t afraid of you, but be afraid of me
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| Cause when the lights go down, there ain’t no stopping me
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| Memories of my first real killing
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| They found her all tied up, just hanging from the ceiling
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| What I was feeling was just so dark and twisted
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| I couldn’t believe I just did this
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| Now I’m stuck in my very own private Hell
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| Will I ever do it again? |
| Time will tell
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| My first time
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| I was in control until the blood
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| It was my first time
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| The bloody mess I had to clean up
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| It was my first time
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| I know this ain’t right
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| It was my first time
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| I finally took someone else’s life
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| Every time I lay my ass down to sleep
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| I pray to fuck these memories seize
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| Bloody face and final breaths taken
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| But the first, uh, what was I thinking?
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| Just a piece of rope and a pair of hands
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| It was a man, but she kept talking man
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| Suffocation, through the mouth breathing
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| I chocked her for the very first time for no reason
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| It was eleven on my clock, I remember that much
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| In the graveyard waiting for the dope man to show up
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| Ten minuets pasts, and there’s still no sign
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| Just then off in the night, I see some headlights
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| A car rolls by, driving slow and I don’t know
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| I thought it was my folk, I ain’t pulled the .44
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| They stopped the ride, started blasting
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| The fist time I didn’t pull the heat
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| Damn, this what happened
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| My first time
|
| I was in control until the blood
|
| It was my first time
|
| The bloody mess I had to clean up
|
| It was my first time
|
| I know this ain’t right
|
| It was my first time
|
| I finally took someone else’s life
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| First time my knife touched skin
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| And the red blood started flowing so quick I just couldn’t quit
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| Kept stabbing until everything that I seen was red
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| The pillow, the blankets, the walls, and even the bed
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| One color dominating everything like contemporary art
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| Am I the killer or artist with bloody heart?
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| Then I curled into a ball in the corner of the room
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| Feeling like a creep in the light of the moon
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| If I took this gun and put a hole in your chest
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| It won’t compare to the first time I put someone to rest
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| Kind of like a dream, but on a nightmare level
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| Every time I think about it I can still hear the shovel
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| Diggin' deep into the dirt to try to hide the pain
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| Knowing I got away with something I’ll regret in the end
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| I really shouldn’t have never done it
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| But fuck it, I did him in
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| The first person that I killed was my first best friend
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| My first time
|
| I was in control until the blood
|
| It was my first time
|
| The bloody mess I had to clean up
|
| It was my first time
|
| I know this ain’t right
|
| It was my first time
|
| I finally took someone else’s life
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| Someone else’s life first
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| Someone else’s life |