We have some damage control to do
One hundred hurricanes to clean up after
Just you wait
Wooden legs will do you no good
When you try to walk on flames
Thy will burn your substitutions and
Touch your solid skin
You can look back and
See the wrongs made in your trail
Creeping up your veins and
Swimming though you
And the flames are rising
You're sweet on my tongue but
Bitter at the back of my throat
I will swallow my pride
In a hypocritical stance
Go down to the lake and
Wash the poison off your skin and
Try to make yourself
Clean again