Struck from the stone that the building refused,
Born from a hole in the soul, torn from a mother abused,
He was a son of a bitch.
Hands cut from leather, wrap a ring around his neck.
Drop dead, drop dead, drop dead. Son of a bitch.
|2||For the Lesser Good|
|3||Swinging to Pieces|
|5||Thanks, But No Thanks|
|1||Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros|