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Greed Lyrics

Victorian Halls

Greed is like a fever sweating silver dollar bullets with an itchy trigger finger
she'll never live through it. You better get to it.

She's got her pretty pretty boys rolling up their sleeves,
mannequin dead skin, rotten baby teeth.
Muscle muscle will tear blonde ball room hair,
bloody hand over fist, oh the town resist,
they insist that everyone loves the red,
from her hood down to her little head.
So never mind the wolves she's hanging with the wolves,
she's gonna flip the situation.

Greed is like a fever sweating silver dollar bullets with an itchy trigger finger
she'll never live through it. You better get to it.

Hey if you want it, come and get it now.
Hey if you need it, come and get it now.
The daggers in her legs shaking shoulder blades marching band parades,
every night and every day.