If I had a dollar bill for every time I’ve been wrong
I’d be a self-made millionaire and you’d still be gone
So hand me down my best dress shoes and my best dress shirt
Cause I’m going out in style to cover the hurt
And all I wanna do all day is spend it in bed
But that’s bad for the body and even worse for my head
So I’ll try and find a place where no one will ask me a thing
It’ll help to forget and help me to sing
Cause now I’m drunk again
The means to my end
And I’m scared of myself
Cause now it’s the same all the faces and names
And I’m scared of myself again
Have you ever wanted to wake up from your dreaming
Scared you so bad you couldn’t control your heart or your breathing
Well walk out the door with me on the floor
You don’t care how I’m feeling
I guess a weak and tired and frightened man is no longer appealing
Some people have a gift of reaching right into your soul
and finding the hole and making it
bigger
Baby sometimes I think I catch ya crackin’ cynical smiles
and in a short while you’ll be my
heart’s grave digger
Well there’s not much I can do
Cause I’m at the mercy of you
So baby I guess we’re through
Cause now I’m drunk again
The means to my end
And I’m scared of myself
Cause now it’s the same the faces and names
And I’m scared of myself again
Cause now it’s all the same the faces and the names
So go walk out the door you don’t believe me no more
And I’m scared of myself again
If I had a dollar bill for every time I been wrong
I’d be a self made millionaire and I wouldn’t be singing this song again...
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Birthright
Dead to rights
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3638571
User Comments: [14] [add]
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Vladimir Harkonnen Community Member 
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Vladimir Harkonnen
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Vladimir Harkonnen Community Member
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Vladimir Harkonnen
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Vladimir Harkonnen Community Member
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Vladimir Harkonnen
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Akarui Mizu Community Member 
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molly the crazy angel
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Vladimir Harkonnen Community Member
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Vladimir Harkonnen
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molly the crazy angel Community Member 
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User Comments: [14] [add]
Community Member
And through this door you deserve a beating through the Machine.
And little did you once know in the race for the telephone.
In the dark they have watched us from here beyond the grave.
To bare the marks of His work are the Watchmen of our ways.
That which we feel untrue, if it's me than it isn't you.
Lay-down, relax, come on, how?
What you thought once was yours is ours now.
Stay with me to guide this dream
Before they bury me.
I'll be waiting up all night for you
In a nightmare that was made for me.
In the call of her screams should we leave and let them be?
Is her life worth as much as we once wished to believe?
So is it or isn't so?
Am I dead now here in the snow?
In the foul of their play will then justice be engraved?
To bare the walk on the way to the killer and his blade.
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