| Train running down the track
|
| Blood pouring down my back
|
| Here we go, beat me blue and black
|
| This knife it bears its scars
|
| And this heart it beats too hard
|
| And these memories I will discard
|
| Well, it must have been an angel
|
| And it must have been the spring
|
| And, it must have meant everything
|
| I piss upon the floor
|
| My blood runs down the door
|
| The ambulance just made another score
|
| Well, these wounds will congeal
|
| And this heart will heal
|
| So stitch me up, I will not squeal
|
| Must have been an angel
|
| And it must have been the spring
|
| And, it must have meant everything
|
| Stitch me up, stitch me up, stitch me up
|
| I will not squeal
|
| So, stitch me up, stitch me up, stitch me up
|
| I will not squeal |