Blood Lyrics

Grinding gears in parked cars

A peeled out burnout on a strip mall tip

A short rip to impress the boys

Because fucking up was the only choice

Yeah fucking up was the only choice

And hold out your hand

The wrist spits blood

A soul at arm's length

Twisting in the wind

We can't judge it from where we stand

And hold out your hand

The wrist spits blood

There's no freedom in this land

And you can do your part

To feel you're not at fault

So sit up straight

And take it on the chin

There's no freedom in this land

And hold out your hand

The wrist spits blood