Beggars, thieves an lifes downtrodden
Come to me as the king of the d***ed
They hang their actions on my blackened outlook
They take their lives by the slight of my hand
They bought a ticket to the gates of heaven
But all the saints see them coming and they run
No chance for reason
No hope at all,
No slight retunr to grace, but a long, long way to fall
A sorry sign of weakness
A silly game to play
A sad song of what becomes of the souls on judgement day
Dead eyes to find you
No tales to tell
Been lost so long I lernt to hunt by sense of smell
Old hands are broken
Old veins are torn
Cos' we're all dying from the day that we are born
We're trying, we're torn
We're dying from the day that we were born
We're trying, we're torn
We're dying from the day that we were born
Come to me as the king of the d***ed
They hang their actions on my blackened outlook
They take their lives by the slight of my hand
They bought a ticket to the gates of heaven
But all the saints see them coming and they run
No chance for reason
No hope at all,
No slight retunr to grace, but a long, long way to fall
A sorry sign of weakness
A silly game to play
A sad song of what becomes of the souls on judgement day
Dead eyes to find you
No tales to tell
Been lost so long I lernt to hunt by sense of smell
Old hands are broken
Old veins are torn
Cos' we're all dying from the day that we are born
We're trying, we're torn
We're dying from the day that we were born
We're trying, we're torn
We're dying from the day that we were born