(2-Inch) Grave

Urie was rolling right thru the streets
Paramedics can't get us the shit we need
Boxes with wet logs; there was no heat
Car battery my source for a short reprieve
No phone,no water or electricity
You told us to save our energy
You stole my power from under me
Just to warm your fucking feet

I can't take this shit anymore
No!
246 lives, gone
You bitches don't care at all
So!
I'm telling you I'm gonna make it your problem!

Children who trusted so easily
You traded their lives for ticket seats
A senator retreated overseas
And offered us empty apologies
Said the that power would come in waves
It never did; we waited days
So offended; there was no praise
Ignoring the bodies without a grave

(Heavy breathing)

I can't take this shit anymore
No!
246 lives, gone
You bitches don't care at all
So!
I'm telling you I'm gonna make it your problem!

Sat up to see what's happening
Perhaps a shred of hope for me
The screaming tore me from my daze
Scraping ice off of the window pane
Looking around as echoes fade
Seeing the brightness from far away
The stadium's lights are on today
You've gotta be fuckin killin me!!



Credits
Writer(s): Blake Mitchell, Chase Mitchell, Kit Mitchell, Max Mitchell, We Don't Ride Llamas
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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