My face is wreck.
My heart is bruised,
but your still here.
Begging, begging for a hit.
The hit of death.
The one k.o.
Whats left two know
my widowed friend.
I'll tell you what,
your all scraped up.
You've got a bullet in your heart,
but you keep running.
Keep running on.
Keep running, and finding no one cares.
Running to the hatred that you've created.
The hatred that will kill.
The hatred that did kill.
