The Red Handed
neon night riders
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I wouldn't call it an overdose
Just a bit over the line
You're busy planning my funeral
I'm digging holes in my mind
I couldn't ask you to hold your own
But I've heard that you're doing fine
Questions with answers you'll never know
You never bothered with mine
Don't mind the cold air on your neck
I'll close the window, before we exhale
Every precious hit into the sky
Just one more time
Just once more
Just one more time
You think you're better than me
You think you're better than yourself
You think you're better than me
You think you're better than yourself
You think you're better with me
But you'd be better off in Hell
Stop pretending that you never loved me
More condescending than you were inviting...tonight