Texty:
Headstones

You're all headstones, headstones now I'm the one left, the walking dead You're all headstones, headstones now I'm the one left, the walking dead You're all headstones You're all headstones

CHORUS: Putin roses on my homeboys head stones Zoning out to the voices in my head phones In the padded room alone spillin to the rain drops drink until

She makes me crazy Doesn't have a vicious bone in her body Well, it ain't tasteful She says she hates me And later on, she says she's sorry She's sorry

Hey man, well, look it here We got Jesus, He's drinkin' beer He's playin' cards, He's shootin' dice He's drinkin' whiskey and He beats His wife And it

You cut me up, you cut me down You cut me in two How can I explain or dignify The things that you do? I am not a mess, I am not the freak That you once

Gonna pick up my bag Gonna run straight home When the police come knocking (tell 'em) That I never left the front door This fabric has faded There'll

She said she'd give me some kinda sign I guess she did I'm happy she's still alive Mother said respect that decision I guess I do I don't well I'm still

Circling and spinning around my mind You sweetly, swiftly shift Shaking the shakes I'm faking you're shaking And you're quick to steal a kiss So in a

n the evening when the moon is shining marigold That's when time draws a line down to your very soul You wanted everything and for you my heart goes out