They say idle hands are the devils workshop and we are sick of hearing tales of all your conquests.
We are sick of hearing voices in the head, blink two times and you’re surely dead.
Idle hands are the devils toolkit and we won’t quit.
They say idle hands are the devils workshop and we are sick of simply stumbling along to blindly acquiesce.
We start fingers clicking and feet twitching in the bed, then it dawns what a very sorry soul I have, all forlorn under a silver crest and we won’t rest for now.
I’ve heard it all so many times, I guess you’ve been hearing the same round here.
I wanna go and live a life that isn’t just sobersided fear.
Into the deep end, in through the gateway, aboard the boat to innocence and calling shotgun, I need a change from finding problems.
I’ve heard it all so many times, I guess you’ve been hearing the same round here.
I wanna go and live a life that isn’t just sobersided fear.