| I spent seven long years on the edge of my seat
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| With a 44 magnum bringing the heat
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| No alibi inside; |
| a loner
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| Take your shots at me
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| I won’t be dancing again
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| Cos I can recognise my own
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| (Recognise my own)
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| And there’s nothing here but skin and bones
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| Skin & Bones
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| Wake up, wake up
|
| Waiting for devotion
|
| Wake up, wake up
|
| Waiting for the shadows to climb the walls
|
| There’s nothing left here but skin & bones
|
| Wake up, wake up
|
| Waiting for devotion
|
| Wake up wake up
|
| Waiting for the gallows to catch your fall
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| You’d call the shots
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| I’d imitate
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| Fall in line like a ricochet
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| But a guilty conscience won’t recover
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| Biting bullets; |
| taking shots to the teeth
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| So keep your opinion of me
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| Keep licking shots of lead you won’t poison me
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| In your venom is the remedy
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| My heart will never bleed
|
| I can recognise my own
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| Recognise my own
|
| And there’s nothing here but skin and bones
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| Telling you to wake up
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| To a finger pointing you in every direction
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| A pasteurised mentality to shadow your reflection
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| A trait they never fail to mention
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| Your personality’s in question
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| If you don’t give into temptation
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| Better duck
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| Stand up
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| In the face of oppression
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| They’ll try to break you down to build you to their own evolution
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| You’re just diluting yourself
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| To be accepted, corrected and misdirected ‘til you’re just another product on
|
| their shelf
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| One of them, nothing more than just skin and bones
|
| Wake up, wake up
|
| Waiting for devotion
|
| Wake up, wake up
|
| Waiting for the shadows to climb the walls
|
| There’s nothing left here but skin & bones
|
| Wake up, wake up
|
| Waiting for devotion
|
| Wake up, wake up
|
| Waiting for the gallows to catch your fall
|
| There’s nothing left here but skin &
|
| There’s nothing left here but skin & bones
|
| But skin & bones |