I'm so bruised inside No, I'm not alright I miss you in my life Love you 'till I die There is no we, We lived happy ever after It's the ending of our
everything burns, My torture lies within. Am i a victim To myself? When everything burns, My tortured life... Boiling point! Violent saint! Boiling point! Violent fucking saint! Saint
the saint, your path into the light I am the knife that cuts right through your life I have found the path immortalized I am the saint, the path into
: How can this be? Why is he the chosen one? Saint gone astray With a scepter and a gun Learn to believe In the mighty and the strong Come bleed
: [Lyrics by John Petrucci] How can this be? Why is he the chosen one? Saint gone astray With a scepter and a gun Learn to believe In the mighty
crazy and as foolish as she wants to be Because her old school ways are practically technicalities and perfectly sane I'm saying I ain't never seen a saint
bloodstained hand I can sell you grace for your soul or you'll burn in hell far below I'm your priest, I'm your king, I'm a Saint This love your enemies
acquired these things from a life of crime, now he's selling them to make bail. He was rippin' off the people. Sellin' guns to the underground, livin'
go to jail. He acquired these things from a life of crime, Now he's selling them to raise his bail. He was rippin' off the people. Sellin' guns to the underground
dejante, prends tes jambes a ton coup, Seine-Saint-Isou! REFRAIN Et non ici c'est: Saint-Denis, Saint-Denis, Fon-fonky fresh Saint-Denis, Saint
Listen all you butchers, saints and sinners We've all been here before All you martyrs and saviours Go through the same door Hey listen all you butchers, saints
crew dejante prends tes jambes a ton coup, Seine-Saint-Isou! [REFRAIN] Et non ici c'est: Saint-Denis, Saint-Denis, Fon-fonky fresh Saint-Denis, Saint
, my children are legion, serial They stick to my skin like beloved cysts I tear away with my nails and teeth and fists Touch the hands of inverted saints
walk" {Muthafucka you - } Now a niggas out in the streets Two nickle plated thirty-eights on me Can't stay away from beef Scrapping with them niggas from the other side Sipping Saint
in the pen Every day I gots to bust two nuts nigga, what I put it down, keep puttin' it down, So I advise hoes to not fuck around This that Underground
he said, is a fine line where gotta pleas the crowd or pleas the artists that are listenin' to you. And pleas the real hip-hop underground
