They Speak With Strange Accents - This Town Needs Guns

I wake and I fear and I sleep again.

So fall out, and breathe in,

You burn my skin.

And my knees, well they’ll bleed,

When I fall at your feet.

You seem to have it all worked out,

Your plans for breaking out.

And aren’t we worth fighting for,

Just soundbites and semaphors.

So come on and take me,

I’m yours you make me.

You’re inside my head,

Without you, well I’m dead (at least not yet)