Bullet (With Your Name)
Broken bottles are shattered, bloody, sharp
Just like broken dreams.
The jagged foundations of a rich man's paradise
Are splitting at the seams.
Quietly we'll dig a shallow grave.
Using the finest silver shovel.
Crafted from all the silver spoons,
Stolen from every "third world" hovel.
This one screams your name Rich Man.
This one screams for you.
Let us lay rumor to rest,
Does your blood run blue?
