Eighty six by afternoon.
Another dreary requiem, written out of tune.
Counting off to a rifle with a gorgeous face.
While I try to fill up all of this empty space.
Between the barracks and my back.
I swear that you make my heart attack.
Keep your hands at my waist.
Something tells me that it's the last time we'll see this place.

Death march, give me a month or two
To decide what road I'm going to choose
Believe the notes, believe my account
If I'm gone, I'm never coming back.

I can't predict the weather, so I tried to use an inference
To bring me back to you, but nothing ever seems to make much sense.
I crawled into the basement, tried to find a new hobby to do
Didn't have you next to me, so I figured that I'd have a side to choose.

Can't say I hate you when I'm willing to
adhere to make it work.
Here's an excuse to make my premonitions count.
I'm going to guard this machine inside my chest, my ribs don't work.
So, I'll heed my own advice, and take this hail of bullets with a smirk.

Come undone. I'm your cannonball.
I'll bring down buildings if you'd love me.