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Queensberry Rules
Lyricist:Laurent Benjamin Barnard, Lee Phillip Barratt, Christopher Frank Carter, Stephen William R Carter, Stuart Leslie Gili-ross
Scratch one more to the body count Another dead kid you don't care about Forget what the papers reads Safe in your house while another kid bleeds
Every one of us to blame For each capital teen who died in vain We are fucking worse if not the same We read the filth and forget their names
No money for a funeral 'Til you sell your story out to the world Hoods up, knifes out, protect ya neck With no remorse and no respect
For every teen who lost their life Hung on the end of a kitchen knife We'll carve this cross into your chest To remind you of this fucking mess
Kitchen knifes and the silent kill Gun shots start the rumor mill Let's take this back to the old school Live our lives by the Queensberry rules
Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com Two fists clenched tight Two fucking wrong-uns who both think they're right The bigger they are The harder they fucking fall
No money for a funeral 'Til you sell your story out to the world Hoods up, knifes out, protects you neck No remorse and no respect
For every teen who lost their life Hung on the end of a kitchen knife We'll carve this cross into your chest To remind you of this fucking mess
The Union Jack has bled away It's black and white and it's fucking gray The cells are cold, the streets are the same It's been a dead summer and we're praying for rain
Your heart of gold is dead and cold You wonder when your dreams got old Walk yourselves down to the flames And throw your knifes in, so this can end
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