Lyrics The Kid In the Background of Every Picture - The Taste Of Blood

The Kid In the Background of Every Picture

Grinding his fingers off
Grinding his fingers away
Turn that hat around so you can shove your face into your pillow and cry out
all your worries
Cry into it
But tears don’t count if they don’t run red
So many years have been washed down the drain
And dreams don’t count if they don’t come true
This friendship has come to an end
I’m sick of you talking all your shit
This friendship has come to an end
Ideals just don’t matter if they were never there
What were you thinking?
Where was your head at?
What will you do with all that
ink?
What will you do with your name?
Friends and family will ask — does he
even have a name?