Dressed to kill, and drinking all alone

Waiting for some lizard to take you home

Another wham-bam rendezvous

The script is moldy but the lines are tried and true



But there's no freedom

No real freedom

There is no freedom in sin



Conscience screaming, but its Saturday night

Dig deep for anything to make the wrong feel right

Morning comes, your head is split in two

I know your bleeding; I've crawled that same path too



The swords are rattling, and the end is in sight

Its now or never if you want to make things right

The future's shaky, but the facts are quite clear

The King is coming, and He's almost here