Last Day Of 1888

Crowded streets and the memories of all the faces you
see
You don't know who I am when you're looking at me

Hang me tonight in the false and jaded light
In the center of the square, murder's breeding in the
air
We're all innocent. The shadow's playing with our
eyes

Sharpened tongues and the loaded guns of all the
fortunate sons
You're the jack, back in black, ripping air from our
lungs.

I'd cut my heart out of my chest and attach it to my
sleeve
If I thought you'd think differently of me.

by Dino