Now it's not what it seems
I just can't start to say
It was these evil days
Of pain and fear
Something was broke
My skin hard like an oak
My mind hard like an oak
I got a history of violence
It's not written on my face
You wouldn't know it
It's buried in my leather case
I got a memory of violence
It's not written on my skin
You couldn't see it
It's a ripple in my grin
Like the people of my kin
And now it's not what it seems
I just can't start to say
It was these evil days
Of pain and fear
Something was broke
My mind hard like an oak
My skin hard like an oak
I got a history of silence
The bruises and the sins
Don't wash away
It's not written in my name
Like a freckle on my skin
Something that I've never shown
Memories from a broken home
The engine with no train
Shame like a funny game
The witness of the sin
The scratches on my skin
The moment I begin
To runaway James Dean
The shutter on the screen
The curtain on the scene
The arrow in the breast
The weight inside the chest
An erasble race
With no traceable trace
Satchel full of lies
The devil in the eye
It's not written on my grave
It's not written on my grave
It's not written on my grave
You wouldn't know it
I'm buried safe and well behaved
I got a history of evil
I got a history of evil
I got a history of evil
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