Misdemeanors

A boy's death find him

Vacantly portrayed as a thief

And he laughs his laugh

He jokes on you

And you consider him for release

Drunk means hours of violence

Twenty-four hours to kill

A boy's loose cannon

Waiting for disaster

And he laughs his laugh

The grinding teeth yelling:

"Faster, faster, can we go any faster?"

Drunk means hours of violence ('ey!)

Twenty-fours hours to kill (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!)

Up to something, good for nothing

Fuck the statues there

And if your so-called friends

Won't cage you in the end

Your misdemeanors will

Up to something, good for nothing

Fuck the statues there

And if your so-called friends

Won't cage you in the end

Your misdemeanors will

Oh yeah! Need it!

Misdemeanors will!

(Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!)