Man got his hand by a crooked god
Pulling on the finger and wrapped and tied in knots
Man got his cross built of piety
Forever in the past and that's all we'll ever see
We can't wake and we blame it on fate
Living on a string we ourselves had to make
Man got his hand man got his gun
Man got his soul and I blame everyone
If you're not my friend
You're my enemy
You're my enemy
You're my enemy
Know your enemy
Sober and his lips are free from sin
Put it in a bottle and sell it back to him
Bitter and our hands are matted claws
Tearing at the dreams we built up into walls
Without us
Your life is
Just for show
Without us
Your life is
Just for show
Don't hate me
Don't break me
I'm just for show

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