| You tried to dodge your own bullet
|
| But it shot you anyway
|
| You crossed over every line and
|
| Hid behind the lines you made
|
| And do ya do ya, do ya do?
|
| And do ya do ya believe in the truth?
|
| Truth be told that truth found it’s way
|
| To the twisted tongue that spoke dismay
|
| I know that I may be young
|
| But at least my youth is wise
|
| You painted a picture to me
|
| That depicted only lies
|
| And do ya do ya, do ya do?
|
| And do ya do ya believe in the truth?
|
| Truth be told that truth found it’s way
|
| To the twisted tongue that spoke dismay
|
| Cause your sweet is sour
|
| You’re a weed not a flower
|
| Just a pretty faced coward is you
|
| Your hearts just an organ that
|
| Pumps nothing more than blood
|
| To your vein full veins
|
| You struck each chord and now it’s time for
|
| Your real song to be sung
|
| You just managed to mask what’s now clear as glass
|
| And that’s just you’re an asshole
|
| You weaseled in and out of words
|
| And denied when truth was heard
|
| May your yes be yes and your no’s be no’s
|
| Not an in between land of I don’t knows
|
| And do ya do ya, do ya do?
|
| Do ya do ya believe in the truth?
|
| Truth be told that truth found it’s way
|
| To the twisted tongue that spoke dismay
|
| Cause your sweet is sour
|
| You’re a weed not a flower
|
| Just a pretty faced coward is you
|
| Your hearts just an organ that
|
| Pumps nothing more than blood
|
| To your vein full veins
|
| You struck each chord now it’s time for
|
| Your real song to be sung
|
| You just managed to mask what’s now clear as glass
|
| And that’s just you’re an asshole
|
| And this I say one last time
|
| You define your own crime
|
| You best hang up your disguise on the laundry line
|
| Stabbed me in the front, stab me in the back
|
| And this right here’s my heart attack
|
| So if I don’t go, I pray you know
|
| Just how much you blow
|
| And do ya do ya, do ya do?
|
| Do ya do ya believe in the truth?
|
| Truth be told that truth found it’s way
|
| To the twisted tongue that spoke dismay
|
| Cause your sweet is sour
|
| You’re a weed not a flower
|
| Just a pretty faced coward is you
|
| Your hearts just an organ that
|
| Pumps nothing more than blood
|
| To your vein full veins
|
| You struck each chord and now it’s time for
|
| Your real song to be sung
|
| You just managed to mask what’s now clear as glass
|
| And that’s just you’re an asshole |