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(Lets start at the end, lets not bring up the contents,

our guts have seen to that - spread out in the dirt.

Tablets swimming in gin and nothing else.

But if we must lets paint a picture with them,

hang it by our gallows and pretend to endings with some fanfare)

We could have done this the hard way,

take the grind of the day to day.

No matter what you say we'll pick the ball up and walk away.

Making right of the wrong way,

all that life getting pissed away.

I need the rot and I cant wait,

got a king to be crowned one day.

Can't carry on, getting gone

cut the rope and I'll be down at the finish line.

Started me off with a shot

trying to run towards the guns at the finish line.

Here's the last stop, fair cop,

pull the other one it's down at the finish line.

Here's where I get off, suicide by cop

I want those guns at the finish line.