| Don’t bite your tongue
 | 
| There’s already blood speckled on the rug
 | 
| And the rain has come to drown
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| A minor accident, the bull in Chinatown
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| Well, hey
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| Just set it off
 | 
| Gather your armaments
 | 
| And head for the parkin' lot
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| All eyes now are flyin' free
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| Free from elegance and eternity
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| You know I love you bad
 | 
| But bad’s been good to me
 | 
| Bleed out with the color of red
 | 
| And fade it away
 | 
| Well, they got the blues, darlin', but
 | 
| We got the greys, yeah, I said
 | 
| Bleed out with the color of red
 | 
| And fade it away
 | 
| Well, they got the blues, momma, but
 | 
| We got the greys, yeah
 | 
| Oh God, get those stars out of her eyes
 | 
| What if you go blind and have to drive me home?
 | 
| Well, all you’re gonna see is nothing more
 | 
| Than a shadow cast through an open door
 | 
| Oh, and if you leave, will you leave with me?
 | 
| Or will I get trapped out in the patterns
 | 
| Will I get swallowed by the weeds?
 | 
| Oh, don’t let me do myself like that
 | 
| All those petty of ecstasy
 | 
| You know I love you bad
 | 
| But bad has been good to me
 | 
| Bleed out with the color of red
 | 
| And fade it away
 | 
| Well, they got the blues, darlin', but
 | 
| Oh, we got the greys, yeah, I said
 | 
| Bleed out with the color of red
 | 
| And fade it away
 | 
| Well, they got the blues, momma, but
 | 
| Yeah, we got the greys, yeah
 | 
| They got the blues
 | 
| And we got the greys |