Crosses
All of this was all your fault
Now we've got no way out
We know where all the crosses lie
And we know which ones you try to hide
With your head hung and your gun slung around your feet
You're tripping over rounds, yeah
You're burying the sounds that you knew we'd make
Two, three till retreat chimes in and victory's in your head
You swear you thread shit into gold, barrel to head, you know, we're really quite impressed
Bravo. Hell, what a fucking show
All of this was all your fault
Now we've got no way out
We know where all the crosses lie
And we know which ones you try to hide
When I was starryeyed, I used to love driving around in your car at night