It's been a long time coming
Lock, stock
Coming for their livestock
Running for they lives
X2
What?
Metal the metal,
The medals of honor pierce his chest.
Kettle the kettle;
Man, his heart is black and bleeds for the death.
To all the rebels,
living off the laws that fear suggests:
He appears a mess,
But there's a message he's decoding.
And he's the envy of the unknowing.
All willing to picture it all perfect.
He talks into this mic with nothing in mind,
The image is all worth it.
No worship in his blood,
No curses worth believing in,
He's up and he's leaving a love for no reason. And,
He's making his rounds.
He pounds his chest and hits the streets.
He's bad to the bone with bad bones,
but he won't admit defeat.
Visits the meek;
Who inherently speak,
From a well-oiled machine of a heart that wont back off.
Comes from a backlog of lost and tough luck.
He's completely punch-drunk,
But to exhausted to touch love. Breath,
He's kept tucked away with that new fame-proof innocence,
That's underage, and over paid-attention to.
And since he's destined to live without her destiny to rest into:
He'll just search for recipies from injuries to exit wounds.
Sets the moonshine down,
Writes another victim's tune,
And washes the blood from his hands with drinks until his fingers prune
Chorus X2
Verse 2
Never had faith in god,
Only trusts the custody he seeks.
And he'd just love to have you judge him by the company he keeps.
The company of wolves,
Customized and cunning.
Up-up and running wild in the streets.
Running! Running!
He's cutting it close.
He's luxury-class.
He's up in the smoke and ash of habits,
And they broke him fast.
He's crashed.
Don't cross him,
He's wild in the sorrow.
But he manages his emotions and lights another Marlboro.
Like,
It's been a long time coming.
Lock, stock
Coming for their livestock
Running for they lives
X2
What?
Metal the metal,
The medals of honor pierce his chest.
Kettle the kettle;
Man, his heart is black and bleeds for the death.
To all the rebels,
living off the laws that fear suggests:
He appears a mess,
But there's a message he's decoding.
And he's the envy of the unknowing.
All willing to picture it all perfect.
He talks into this mic with nothing in mind,
The image is all worth it.
No worship in his blood,
No curses worth believing in,
He's up and he's leaving a love for no reason. And,
He's making his rounds.
He pounds his chest and hits the streets.
He's bad to the bone with bad bones,
but he won't admit defeat.
Visits the meek;
Who inherently speak,
From a well-oiled machine of a heart that wont back off.
Comes from a backlog of lost and tough luck.
He's completely punch-drunk,
But to exhausted to touch love. Breath,
He's kept tucked away with that new fame-proof innocence,
That's underage, and over paid-attention to.
And since he's destined to live without her destiny to rest into:
He'll just search for recipies from injuries to exit wounds.
Sets the moonshine down,
Writes another victim's tune,
And washes the blood from his hands with drinks until his fingers prune
Chorus X2
Verse 2
Never had faith in god,
Only trusts the custody he seeks.
And he'd just love to have you judge him by the company he keeps.
The company of wolves,
Customized and cunning.
Up-up and running wild in the streets.
Running! Running!
He's cutting it close.
He's luxury-class.
He's up in the smoke and ash of habits,
And they broke him fast.
He's crashed.
Don't cross him,
He's wild in the sorrow.
But he manages his emotions and lights another Marlboro.
Like,
It's been a long time coming.