Red

Nothing ever happens in this dirty hick town
The bar is always closed and now the hookers all are gone
Now church is entertainment and prozac is the drug
Going out of my mind, start to changing things around
I’ve got gallons of blood
Can’t remember where it’s from
Just clippings on the wall
I guess it’s stuff that I’ve done
I’ve got to paint this town red (red… red… red…)
I’ve got to paint this town red (red… red… red…)
I’ve got to paint this town red (red… red… red…)
How ironic, I’m bored and all erotic
Just sitting around all day, just plotting how to die
Wasting time, cracking fingers, my blood gets thinner by the minute
Sometimes I feel that I am dead
Distant memories haunt me
(Distant memories haunt me)
It truly seems like a dream
(It truly seems like a dream)
Like a dead man’s song
(Like a dead man’s song)
A machine with no conscience
(A machine with no conscience)
I’ve got to paint this town red (red… red… red…)
I’ve got to paint this town red (red… red… red…)
I’ve got to paint this town red (red… red… red…)
I’ve got to paint this town red (red… red… red…)
I’ve got to paint this town red (red… red… red…)
«It really seems like a dream»
Like a dead man’s song
I’m just the machine with no conscience
Like a dead man’s song
Living in a dirty hick town
I’ve got to paint this town red (red… red… red…)
I’ve got to paint this town red (red… red… red…)
I’ve got to paint this town red (red… red… red…)
I’ve got to paint this town red (red… red… red…)
I’ve got to paint this town red (red…)