Stealing Angels He Better Be Dead
I’ve texted him twenty one times
And still my phone don’t ring
And my wild imagination son is
Makin’ up scary things…makin’ up scary things
No one shares a kiss like that
And then just doesn’t call
Last night he promised me the world
And now I’m gettin’ nothing at all!
He better be dead
His house burnt down to the ground
He better have two wheels hangin’ off a crumblin’ cliff
Way I'm feelin' now
I'm swearin' his head
Better be pressed up against a gun
After all the things we've said
If he still ain’t called by now
He better be dead
I don’t like being done like them
That just aint my style
Little boys playin games
You know they really get me wrong
You know they really get me wrong
If I weren’t getting madder by the minute
Then I’d be worried sick
I know he knows im callin’
So what the hell is it
He better be dead
His house burnt down to the ground
He better have two wheels hangin’ off a crumblin’ cliff
Way I'm feelin' now
I'm swearin his head
Better be pressed up against a gun
After all the things we've said
If he still ain’t called by now
He better be dead as a door nail
Cold as a stone
Flat on a train tracks
Whaoooooo
Traced on the floor
Stiff as a board
Knock knock knockin’ on heavens door
He better be dead
His house burnt down to the ground
He better have two wheels hangin’ off a crumblin’ cliff
Way I'm feelin' now
I'm swearin his head
Better be pressed up against a gun
After all the things we've said
If he still ain’t called by now
He better be tied to a motel bed
Hand cuffed, gagged, and bound
He better be dead
That boy better be dead
I’ve texted him twenty two times
And still my phone don’t ring
