BlackHeartBook
04/24/10, 08:48 AM
Sick of being hit with words
Where are your stones and sticks?
Were they taken from you as a kid?
Right along with your guts and dick
Is that what they did?
Stop your shouting and yelling
Face me like the man you aren't
Shoot from your bow
And listen to what William Tell's telling
Let's battle the hell outta this field like nobody know
Tell me if you're feeling it
Tell me it's true
I got this poison in my mind and you do too
Chorus: Grip the combat grip on your gun and go
Like a scene straight outta Tomb Raider
We'll square off, each with a Desert Eagle 9.0
And like the two dead boys who got up to fight
We'll shake the earth with out battle cries
And we'll rattle the world through the night
Like a smooth operator
Or kamikaze pilot
I'm blowing you up here and there
I've got your number and I'm dialing it
This is the death mask I wear
Blind generals on the fronts
We shoot what we hear
Not what we see
Shoot those skittering mice up, stupid grunts
Chew their bones, 'cause like babies we teethe and need to feed
Chorus.
Outro: And don't even try to say
"Son, you know not what you do"
'Cause I know my own game, my own plan
This is my name, my land
Sans peace, sans infirmity, and to hell with you
Where are your stones and sticks?
Were they taken from you as a kid?
Right along with your guts and dick
Is that what they did?
Stop your shouting and yelling
Face me like the man you aren't
Shoot from your bow
And listen to what William Tell's telling
Let's battle the hell outta this field like nobody know
Tell me if you're feeling it
Tell me it's true
I got this poison in my mind and you do too
Chorus: Grip the combat grip on your gun and go
Like a scene straight outta Tomb Raider
We'll square off, each with a Desert Eagle 9.0
And like the two dead boys who got up to fight
We'll shake the earth with out battle cries
And we'll rattle the world through the night
Like a smooth operator
Or kamikaze pilot
I'm blowing you up here and there
I've got your number and I'm dialing it
This is the death mask I wear
Blind generals on the fronts
We shoot what we hear
Not what we see
Shoot those skittering mice up, stupid grunts
Chew their bones, 'cause like babies we teethe and need to feed
Chorus.
Outro: And don't even try to say
"Son, you know not what you do"
'Cause I know my own game, my own plan
This is my name, my land
Sans peace, sans infirmity, and to hell with you