Turn the key, hit the gas, leave your worry in the past.
My body bag in your back seat, and excuses 6 feet deep.
Hit the road, run the red light, make a scene, act impolite.
A new level, but the same ol’ devil. full throttle, put the pedal to the metal.
The pulsing red white blue light. Regret is stalking tonight
The panic and paranoia. Seductive casanova.
Who put my body in the bag? “Call me Jekyll, Mr. Hyde.”
Chloroform polluted gag. “You can run, boy, but you can’t hide.”
Karma’s pissed, the die is cast. Off the cliff and through the glass.
Is it just me or does it feel like the end is near?
Let’s call in an Easy Victor and get the heck out of here.
Pull my spirit from the wreckage. Mental strain and perennial damage.
Sifting through the thick debris, of withered thoughts corrupting me.
Hopefully there’s something here, still of value, preserved and pure.
An ancient relic of bygone days, a younger heart ungrieved by pains.
If I could change the path of history, I’d save this child from my iniquity.
A wasted life spent and missed, hurdling headlong into the abyss,
Where finite grains of time are doomed, bled out from a gaping wound.
I’d scream with throat bloody and soul bare, but I doubt that you would listen,
and if I’m being honest, I don’t think that I would care.
If the past climbs in your bed. Hell Yeah.
Focus on the road ahead. Hell Yeah.
Let the dead bury the dead. Hell Yeah.
Come with me if you want to shred.
Stand your ground when smoke is thick. Hell Yeah.
Hellfire burning, come what may.
Nothing good ever grows quick. No way.
Rome wasn’t built in a day.
Our mistakes and bad choices, whispering with anxious voices.
O’ body bag please help me to sleep when I end up six feet deep.
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