You've been shot
Full of holes
You feel your eyes
About to close
And the clothes you're in
Seem paper thin
You can feel the frostbite
Fangs sink in
Cause it's cold outside
With no place to hide
Your blood out in the snow
And the people stare
But they're unaware
Of why you had to go
Well think of all the fun you've had
Breaking heads and acting bad
But now that all those days are done
You finally tried the other side
Of a gangster's gun
Paralyzed
But a pulse remains
To pump last thoughts
Through your dying brains
Remember Mom
Said always do your best
But now a bullet burns
Within your chest
And the sirens sound
Crowd gathers round
Like moths to flame will fly
Cause they love blood's smell
But they're scared as Hell
Of what it means to die
Well think of all the fun you've had
Breaking heads and acting bad
But now that all those days are done
You finally tried the other side
Of a gangster's gun
I smell something burning
Like a flag, like a rubber tire
What you kids been cooking
That's got my kitchen full of fire?
Well it's American stew
Cause we were sick of the pie
Blood, white, and blue
In the blink of an eye
We'll go to the barn
And lay down low
And hide 'till all the fires go
Well think of all the fun you've had
Breaking heads and acting bad
But now that all those days are done
You finally tried the other side
Of a gangster's gun
American stew
Cause we were sick of the pie
Blood, white, and blue
In the blink of an eye
(You've been shot)
We'll go to the barn
And lay down low
And hide 'till all the fires go
(You've been shot)
American stew
Cause we were sick of the pie
Blood, white, and blue
In the blink of an eye
(You've been shot)
We'll go to the barn
And lay down low
And hide 'till all the fires go
(Oh, you've been shot)
American stew
Cause we were sick of the pie
Blood, white, and blue
In the blink of an eye
(Oh, you've been shot)
We'll go to the barn
And we'll lay down low
And hide 'till all the fires go
(You've been shot)
American stew
Cause we were sick of the pie
Blood, white, and blue
In the blink of an eye
(You've been shot)
We'll go to the barn
And lay down low
And hide 'till all the fires go
(You've been shot)
American stew
Cause we were sick of the pie...
Writer(s): Joseph Eppard
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