Pigs Fly

The painter cries when the paint dries
I don't see worth in all his white lies
He better run when those pigs fly
This writer's got guns and those wild eyes
The painter hides with the train times
He knows the smoke is not a good sign
He doesn't know he's already died
I've killed him more than a dozen times

The painter cries when his insides
Get thrown around on the playground
Drive that knife inside of his gut now
Twist that blade and drop his scrawny knees down
I've heard the words of the lord, loud
She says my soul is ready hell bound
I've seen the colour of the paint now
It's red like blood and rushing through this town

The painter hides with the train times
He knows the smoke is not a good sign
He doesn't know he's already died
I've killed him more than a dozen times



Credits
Writer(s): Gregor Dobson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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