| Don’t bite your tongue
|
| There’s already blood speckled on the rug
|
| And the rain has come to drown
|
| A minor accident, the bull in Chinatown
|
| Well, hey
|
| Just set it off
|
| Gather your armaments
|
| And head for the parkin' lot
|
| All eyes now are flyin' free
|
| Free from elegance and eternity
|
| You know I love you bad
|
| But bad’s been good to me
|
| Bleed out with the color of red
|
| And fade it away
|
| Well, they got the blues, darlin', but
|
| We got the greys, yeah, I said
|
| Bleed out with the color of red
|
| And fade it away
|
| Well, they got the blues, momma, but
|
| We got the greys, yeah
|
| Oh God, get those stars out of her eyes
|
| What if you go blind and have to drive me home?
|
| Well, all you’re gonna see is nothing more
|
| Than a shadow cast through an open door
|
| Oh, and if you leave, will you leave with me?
|
| Or will I get trapped out in the patterns
|
| Will I get swallowed by the weeds?
|
| Oh, don’t let me do myself like that
|
| All those petty of ecstasy
|
| You know I love you bad
|
| But bad has been good to me
|
| Bleed out with the color of red
|
| And fade it away
|
| Well, they got the blues, darlin', but
|
| Oh, we got the greys, yeah, I said
|
| Bleed out with the color of red
|
| And fade it away
|
| Well, they got the blues, momma, but
|
| Yeah, we got the greys, yeah
|
| They got the blues
|
| And we got the greys |