Greed

I never truckled; I never took off the hat
To Fashion and held it out for pennies
By God, I told them the truth
They liked it or they didn't like it
What had that to do with me?
I told them the truth
I knew it for the truth then
And I know it for the truth now

The sun is hanging up
Like a shimmering scythe
The dust drains the life all around
Two tiny figures lost in the valley of death
Struggling face to face for a bag
"Don't you lay your fingers on that sack"
A trembling hand tights the gun
Shooting straight into the chest
A corpse stumbles hard on the ground

I'm dreaming Trina freaking out
In that bed of gold
With her devilish ruffled hair
I'm dreaming Trina freaking out
In that bed of gold
With her filthy sighs of lust

Gunpowder fills the air
Marcus is bleeding and still
I feel a tug on my wrist
My blood-stained hands are now surely cuffed
There's no way to run, no way to live
Staring pointless in the aching heat
I caught sight of the cage
An helpless canary is dying inside
I open the cage and let it free

I'm dreaming Trina freaking out
In that bed of gold
With her devilish ruffled hair
I'm dreaming Trina freaking out
In that bed of gold
With her filthy sighs of lust



Credits
Writer(s): Alessandro Bartolucci
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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