Mastas of Ravenkroft

Salutations
From a greater northwest alley and
Reservations
At the Cosa Nostra steakhouse, 8 p.m.

You got your rickety bones, I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones, I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones, I got my rickety hands
I'm turnin' into some dust, I'm turnin' into some bats

Medication
And the way your eyes look into me
Lubrication
Can you turn off all the lights so I can't see?

You got your rickety bones, I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones, I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones, I got my rickety hands
I'm dressin' up like a crow, I'm turnin' into some rats

X-O, X-O, X-O, X-O
X-O, X-O, X-O, X-O!

Yeah!
You got your rickety bones, I got my rickety hands
He's got your rickety bones, I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones, I got my rickety hands
I'm drowning innocent wolves, I'm dressing up like a cat

You got your rickety bones, I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones, I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones, I got my rickety hands
So fucking old
I'm so fucking alone



Credits
Writer(s): Frank Iero, Michael Way, Raymond Toro, Robert C Bryar, Gerard Way
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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