Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Foxblood
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tom Beale
Songwriter
Chris Millward
Songwriter
Aaron Beale
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Foxblood
Producer
Lyrics
Because it's friends like us who hate friends like you,
I guess we saw through the ruse, it's time to pay your dues.
Why don't you be the rat, and I'll be the maze?
Or maybe I'll just come to be the spade that digs your grave,
You're not rolling with the punches, simply cutting other's lunches,
A simple scourge, a pocket plague, nothing we can't exterminate.
Salt the earth outside your hearth, leave this lying in the dirt,
We'll just have to let this fucking burn, plague, scourge.
You make my stomach churn, you bastards never fucking learn.
Stateside is burning, I killed all my masters.
Oh lord forgive me for all my trespasses now, drag me down.
Salt the earth outside your hearth,
Leave this lying in the fucking dirt.
Rot. Burn.
Another fucking blight, another fucking scourge.
What if the kids got to play with the nukes,
And we just gave them the codes and told the world it was a fluke?
All the scars of the Czars, trigger fingers on the Tsars,
It took the keys to the castle to find out who you really are.
You make my stomach churn, you bastards never fucking learn.
Stateside is burning, I killed all my masters.
Oh lord forgive me for all my trespasses now, drag me down.
Because it's friends like us who hate friends like you,
Better be careful who you choose, cause we could ruin you too.
Because it's friends like us who hate friends like you,
I guess we saw through the ruse, it's time to pay your dues.
Because it's friends like us who hate friends like you,
We'll drag you through the dirt, I guess we saw through the ruse,
It's time to pay your dues.
Salt the earth outside your hearth,
Leave this lying in the fucking dirt.
Rot. Burn.
Another blight, another scourge.
Writer(s): Aaron Beale, Chris Millward, Tom Beale
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