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