Misdemeanors

A boy's death find him Vacantly portrayed as a thief And he laughs his laugh He jokes on you And you consider him for release Drunk means hours of violence Twenty-four hours to kill A boy's loose cannon Waiting for disaster And he laughs his laugh The grinding teeth yelling: "Faster, faster, can we go any faster?" Drunk means hours of violence ('ey!) Twenty-fours hours to kill (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!) Up to something, good for nothing F*** the statues there And if your so-called friends Won't cage you in the end Your misdemeanors will Up to something, good for nothing F*** the statues there And if your so-called friends Won't cage you in the end Your misdemeanors will Oh yeah! Need it! Misdemeanors will! (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!) Oh