The Lost Art Of Murder
Could roll a four
Could roll a nine
Find yourself washed up in paradise
Just like before
She never used to mind
I love my phone in paradise
What a nice day for a murder
You call yourself a killer, boy
But the only thing you're killing is your time
Nothing absurder
A burden's just a burden
To your heart, your soul,
Your body, spirit and mind
Don't look at me like that
She won't take you back
You said "too much, you've been too unkind
Get up off your back
Stop smoking that
You could change your life
Do you think you'll change your mind?"
Could roll a four
Could roll a nine
Find yourself washed up in paradise
No light before
No light behind
Someone else washed up in paradise
What a nice day for a murder
You call yourself a killer
But the only thing you're killing is your time
Nothing absurder
A burden's just a burden
To your heart, your soul,
Your body, spirit and mind
Don't look at me like that
She won't take you back
You said "too much, you've been too unkind
Get up off your back
Stop smoking that
You could change your life
Do you think you'll change their mind?"
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