The Lost Art Of Murder

Could roll a four
Could roll a nine
Find yourself washed up in paradise

Just like before
She never used to mind
I love my phone in paradise

What a nice day for a murder
You call yourself a killer, boy
But the only thing you're killing is your time

Nothing absurder
A burden's just a burden
To your heart, your soul,
Your body, spirit and mind

Don't look at me like that
She won't take you back
You said "too much, you've been too unkind
Get up off your back
Stop smoking that
You could change your life
Do you think you'll change your mind?"

Could roll a four
Could roll a nine
Find yourself washed up in paradise

No light before
No light behind
Someone else washed up in paradise

What a nice day for a murder
You call yourself a killer
But the only thing you're killing is your time

Nothing absurder
A burden's just a burden
To your heart, your soul,
Your body, spirit and mind

Don't look at me like that
She won't take you back
You said "too much, you've been too unkind
Get up off your back
Stop smoking that
You could change your life
Do you think you'll change their mind?"