Playing christ to these enemies
And i know - there'll never be peace
You're playing with fire and it's danger zone
Whenever i'm through, you already on the phone
Four more tarts playing harps
I got these tats all on my arms
We drive around in million dollar sports cars
Bail was a quarter mill, they put me in a box
An ipod mind to you walkman guys
Playing russian roulette with ya life,
And when you up in wet willies, you ain't even thinking
I just look at you, smile, then wink, thought sports was my thing,
Playing back my lesser feats
Way too big for my my fucking jeans
When they twist and talk with they fingers
Just playing again.... it was nerves
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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