All of this was all your fault,
now we've got no way out.
We know where all the crosses lie
and we know which ones you try to hide.
With your head hung
and your gun slung around your feet,
you're tripping over rounds,
yeah, you're burying the sounds that you knew we'd make.
Two, three till retreat chimes in
and victory's in your head.
You swear you thread shit into gold,
barrel to head, you know,
we're really quite impressed.
All of this was all your fault,
now we've got no way out.
We know where all the crosses lie
and we know which ones you try to hide.
When I was starryeyed,
I used to love driving around in your car at night.

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