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 this false and jaded light

In the center of the square, muder's bredding in the air

We're all innocent.

The shadow's playing with our eyes

Sharpened tongues and the loaded guns of all the forunate 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