| Gonna take off all my skin,
|
| Tear apart all of my insides,
|
| When they rifle in,
|
| Mom and Dad think you’ll be saved,
|
| They never had the time,
|
| They’re gonna medicate your lives,
|
| You were always born a crime,
|
| We salute you in your grave.
|
| Can’t find my way home,
|
| But it’s through you and I know,
|
| What I’d do just to get back in her arms,
|
| Can’t find my way home,
|
| But it’s through you and I know,
|
| What I’d do just to get back in her arms.
|
| (Well my gun fires
|
| seven different shades of shit,
|
| So what’s your favorite color, punk?)
|
| Do you wanna hold my hand?
|
| Could you sign this photograph,
|
| 'Cause I’m your biggest fan,
|
| Would you leave me lying here?
|
| We’re not here to pay a compliment,
|
| Or sing about the government,
|
| Oxycontin genocide,
|
| Adolescent suicide,
|
| I’ll give you my sincerity,
|
| a fuck about a Kennedy,
|
| Here’s what I’ve got to say.
|
| Can’t find my way home,
|
| But it’s through you and I know,
|
| What I’d do just to get back in her arms,
|
| Can’t find my way home,
|
| But it’s through you and I know,
|
| What I’d do just to get back in her arms.
|
| No way home why
|
| We’ve got to go
|
| Can’t find my way home,
|
| But it’s through you and I know,
|
| What I’d do just to get back in her arms,
|
| Can’t find my way home,
|
| But it’s through you and I know,
|
| What I’d do just to get back, well, in her arms.
|
| I can’t find the way
|
| Come on angel, don’t you cry |