Crimescene

You're stabbing the backs of the ones that are holding you up And maybe it doesn't matter But it just seems so clear to me, that
they don't care that it hurts to breathe They don'ty know and they can't see that the songs you own make your heart beat The
breakdown, stitches, broken lives and no one knows what we're going through There is a difference between What you've earned and
what you deserve And as long as you are living well, our sweat can drip straight to hell Prove me wrong Prove you give a fuck,
about the sound- about the words Prove that we've crossed your mind on some term besides numbers There's no loyalty There's no
fucking ethics here It's not the message that keeps you here