Hit it one more. Time for our men . . . in uniform (with a price upon their

heads).

This is a WAR! Sober up, but call it what you want. The color changes up in the

sun.

Not throwing stones at you anymore. Your name's in lights and I don't wonder .

. . anymore. Anymore . . .

All my X's live with hexes, this is why I hang . . . myself with jealousy upon

a fencepost half mast.

Fashion: war between . . . the guilty and the guilty and the guilty and the

guilty and the teen.

Not throwing stones at you anymore. Your name's in lights and I don't wonder .

. . anymore. Anymore . . .

Oh yeah, I would like to . . . stay and die like mice do.

I'm crying in the beer of a drunk man. I'm crying, crying, crying!

Not throwing stones at you anymore. Your name's in lights and I don't wonder .

. . anymore. Anymore . . .

Oh yeah, I would like to . . . Yeah, I'd like to die like fucking mice do.

I'm crying in the beer of a drunk man. And I'm crying in the beer of a drunk

man.

Fashion! Fashion! Buy it! Load it! Shoot it!