Mr. Mouse - 16

You epitomize in the blood of Christ

You’re dead to us a roll up creep

I’m tired of crying

My throat is dry

We can share some wine to drink

With a small child

Under my arm

But he can’t see

A bird got shot squawked in pain

He torched your house and your child

We lied awake in bed

But he comes inside

Burn this town down

Tear it to the ground

But we caught your lies