Last Day Of 1888

Crowded streets and the memories of all the faces you see you don't know who I am when you're looking at me Hang me tonight in this false and jaded light In the center of the square, muder's bredding in the air We're all innocent. The shadow's playing with our eyes Sharpened tongues and the loaded guns of all the forunate sons you're the jack, back in black, ripping air from our lungs I'd cut my heart out of my chest and attach it to my sleeve If I thought you'd think differently of me