Drop Dead

Your lips have lied to truth
I still see in your shallow eyes
A taste, a dark taste
I'm into being your pet whore
In which I'm no more than a key chain
Enough to force myself through the days
And turn to damn fame

God lost
God lost

I'm back behind the wall
Letting out the man under the rope
I'd rather sewn into my hands
Black bricks come into my head
So mentally, we decorated
And now it's time
Abandon you, our life of crimes

Die, lies
Die, lies

No more
No more
No more
No more