Our love is lying there Lying by your side Murdered by the lies you told now you’re the one who cries And your tears rain down Rain down your face And falling on the pillows in the bed you made You left me nothing now it’s all I’ve got, for you Goodbye,

There's blood on my hands I can see blood all over my hands The longer you lay next to me the further I ran The longer you stay close to me the further I ran Wake up in the middle of the semi of the night With some tears on my pillow and this blood on my

Out in the streets, they call it murder Welcome to Jamrock Welcome to Jamrock, welcome to Jamrock Welcome to Jamrock, camp where the thugs dem camp at Two pound ah weed inna van back It inna your hand bag, your knapsack, it inna your backpack The smell

I'm back (I'm back) (Slim Shady!) I'm back That's why they call me Slim Shady (I'm back) They call me Slim Shady (I'm back) I murder a rhyme one word at a time You never heard of a mind as perverted as mine You better get rid of that nine it ain't gonna

Tremble you weaklings, cower in fear I am your ruler, land, sea and air Immense in my girth, erect, I stand tall I am a nuclear murderer, I am Polaris Ready to pounce at the touch of a button My systems locked in on military gluttons I rule on land, air,

Distractions, Reactions The only way to go is to go away Discarded, Retarded Before I let you go, you have to let me Maximize our prize of a record It's all on the path and the words are of murder This time I won't give in I will save you from my sins

Nobody saw him running from sixteenth avenue. They never found the fingerprint or the weapon that was used. But someone killed country music, cut out its heart and soul. They got away with murder down on music row. The almighty dollar and the lust for

Dream over, grieve no more And I breathe one last time Now I lay thee down Was it lost? Was it murdered? Within the eye of the beholder Oh, I want to know How it feels when we die Can you take me under? Oh, she watched me leave

Born to lose Hear your thunder Still feeding back The man in black The iron horse rolls on and on and on Still hear your thunder

I have, I hold the key, to nothing, it's a small Murder, murders in the hands, of motion, as It seems to be No more doors No more locks No more windows No more box