Wash my hands of this You know they're gonna burn it down You notice how God ain't even helping you out Why the hell don't you throw yourself away Baby's born on a bathroom floor Her mother prays that it'll never cry When they ask you'll say 'it isn't

The blood is on your tongue as well as your hands. Is it the same for you? Archaic and content you just wash them off Well I swear there's a ghost on this Island His hands, all covered in blood My wife inquired of understanding But of course my dear, you