scratch one more to the body count another dead kid you don t care about forget what the paper reads safe in your house while another kid bleeds everyone of us to blame for each capital teen who died in vain we are fucking worse if not the same we read the filth but forget their names no money for a funeral til you sell your story out to the world hoods up knifes out protect ya neck with no remorse and no respect for every teen who lost their life hung on the end of a kitchen knife carve this cross into your chest to remind you of this fucking mess kitchen knifes and the silent kill gun shots start the rumour mill let s take this back to the old school live out our lives by the queensberry rules two fists clenched tight two fucking wrong uns who both think they re right the bigger they are the harder they fucking fall no money for a funeral til you sell your story out to the world hoods up knifes out protect ya neck with no remorse and no respect for every teen who lost their life hung on the end of a kitchen knife we ll carve this cross into your chest to remind you of this fucking mess the union jack has burned away it s black and white and it s fucking grey the cells are cold the streets the same its been a dead summer and we re praying for rain your heart of gold is dead and cold you wonder when your dreams got old walk yourselves down to the thames throw you knifes in so that this can end