Blood Trophies

One more trip up to the lake
Fish are rotten in the sun
I slip the knife into these depths
There’s nowhere left, for me to run
Federales on my trail
Someone out there knows my face
I can’t fight the urge no more
I might as well get me a taste
And you know that idle hands are made from devil’s work
And I ain’t done nothing well, keep them from around your throat
With red hands and black deeds
Ain’t no flowers left, only weeds
There’s an RSVP with the law
Damning me
Now my work is almost done
They’ll take my breath but not my deeds
Before they come and dig this grave
They’ll see my face in every dream
And you know that idle hands are made for devil’s work
I ain’t done nothing all day, keep 'em from around your throat
With red hands and black deeds
Ain’t no flowers left, only weeds
There’s an RSVP with the law
Damning me
Red hands feed my rage
By the sound of a thousand horns I come and
Black deeds fuel my resolve for I know that it must be done
The trophies seemed like a stone, seemed like a stone
Driving in halls of Davy Jones
(And you know)
That idle hands are made from devil’s work
And I ain’t done nothing all day, keep 'em from around your throat
With the red hands and black deeds
Ain’t no flowers left, only weeds
There’s an RSVP with the law, damning
RSVP with the law, damning me