| Sister, I’m not much a poet, but a criminal
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| And you never had a chance
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| Love it, or leave it, you can’t understand
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| A pretty face, but you do so carry on,
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| and on,
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| and on I wouldn’t front the scene if you payed me
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| I’m just the way that the doctor made me, on,
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| and on,
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| and on,
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| and on Love is the red of the rose on your coffin door
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| What’s life like, bleeding on the floor,
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| the floor,
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| the floor
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| You’ll never make me leave
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| I wear this on my sleeve
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| Give me a reason to believe
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| So give me all you poison
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| And give me all your pills
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| And give me all your hopeless hearts
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| And make me ill
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| You’re running after something
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| That you’ll never kill
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| If this is what you want
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| Then fire at will
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| Preach all you want but who’s gonna save me?
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| I keep a gun on the book you gave me, hallelujah, lock and load
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| Black is the kiss, the touch of the serpeant sun
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| It ain’t the mark or the scar that makes you one,
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| and run,
|
| and run,
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| and run
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| You’ll never make me leave
|
| I wear this on my sleeve
|
| Give me a reason to believe
|
| So give me all your poison
|
| And give me all your pills
|
| And give me all your hopeless hearts
|
| And make me ill
|
| You’re running after something
|
| That you’ll never kill
|
| If this is what you want
|
| Then fire at will
|
| You’ll never make me leave
|
| I wear this on my sleeve
|
| You wanna follow something
|
| Give me a better cause to lead
|
| Just give me what I need
|
| Give me a reason to believe
|
| So give me all your poison
|
| And give me all your pills
|
| And give me all your hopeless hearts
|
| And make me ill
|
| You’re running after something
|
| That you’ll never kill
|
| If this is what you want
|
| Then fire at will |