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Years Spent Cold
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Coming Up Roses
The screwdriver buried to the base of the handle, into your spine
With one quick pull paralysis sets in
Let's see you walk away from this situation
Coming up roses
I feel nothing, you're just another nameless face
The hollow point enters through the base of your skull
As it carves its way through bone and shreds through cartiledge
A blood stained shirt to remind you why I'm in business
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A past I can't erase. No remorse, no regrets
I saw the blankness glaze over your eyes
The last thing you'll see is my face
The tables have turned
It's the wrong time and wrong fucking place
Always armed, never outgunned
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