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Queensberry Rules
Lyricist：Laurent Benjamin Barnard, Lee Phillip Barratt, Christopher Frank Carter, Stephen William R Carter, Stuart Leslie Gili-ross
Scratch one more to the body count
Another dead kid you don't care about
Forget what the papers reads
Safe in your house while another kid bleeds
Every one of us to blame
For each capital teen who died in vain
We are fucking worse if not the same
We read the filth and 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
We'll carve this cross into your chest
To remind you of this fucking mess
Kitchen knifes and the silent kill
Gun shots start the rumor mill
Let's take this back to the old school
Live our lives by the Queensberry rules
Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com
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, protects you neck
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 bled away
It's black and white and it's fucking gray
The cells are cold, the streets are the same
It's 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 flames
And throw your knifes in, so this can end
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