Horns

Bloodshot eyes and a dead beat stance
Shit for brains I'm a game of chance
One cut two cut counting scars
Three cut horns up behind the bars

I'm not your patron saint
I'm not your patron saint
Horns up or down horns up I am your warpaint
You're not my angel dear
You're not my angel dear
Let's make this crystal clear
Horns up I am your worst fear

It's not the cough that carries me off
It's the motherfucking coffin they carry me off in
It's not the cough that carries me off
It's the coffin they carry you off in

I'm not your patron saint
I'm not your patron saint
Horns up or down horns up I am your warpaint
You're not my angel dear
You're not my angel dear
Let's make this crystal clear
Horns up I am your worst fear

One shot ten shot just in case
'S what it takes to get you out of my face
If I wake up strapped up in my bed, you can slit my wrists
I'd rather be dead