Don’t know what the hell I’ve got
‘Til it’s gone.
Blood and wine are my hands
And my head is hot buried beneath this sun.
No such thing as innocent,
We all lead yellow lives.
Hiding beneath our garden gloves,
Planting little white lies.
Ate the fruit before the labour
To save my bitter soul.
Savoured the taste
But hard work has taken its toll.
So I can’t be your therapist
Or your practitioner.
I’m sick of your disease;
Catalyst for change says I’m just not a good listener.
Don’t know where I’m at
‘Til I’m gone.
Cola and vomit is my life,
Stuck under this bridge with no match to burn;
No love lost, no lesson learned.
So save your flesh
And shave down your bones.
Sin is only skin-deep
We’re only as alone as the lies we don’t keep.
Please water your orchard
Whenever you feel sad.
No such thing as innocent; torture
Don’t know what the hell I’ve got ’til it’s gone bad.