Lyrics Spitfire - Pyrophoria

The Damsel in Protest picks a bone
You were the first to throw a stone
You shall be called stupidity prone
You were in a glass house when it was thrown
Godspeed the shattering of your home
My dear, there's no need to atone
To me your fate is already known
Kerosene Queen laughs from her throne

Never point a gun at the jail-breaker
You've met your match, now meet your maker

If anything, I am damned to dissent
Rise up ladies, we have a real gent
The golden rule mustn't have been your intent
Right back at you Mr. fucking hell-bent
Much obliged for the knife you sent
The jugular is where mine went
Taking the gloves off was time well spent
I have nothing to lose, so take the hint

Never point a gun at the jail-breaker
You've met your match, now meet your maker