I don't miss you at all That you left behind I don't miss you It doesn't hurt When I think of you And all the things we'll Never get to do I don't dream at night about the way we were I tore up the pictures, crossed out all the words

Mercy, comes after midnight Fire, fire from the inside Rhythm, like a hurricane rain Mind your step as you make your way Through the church in to this world of sand Picture an angle with a cigarette burnin' With a long slow drag She welcomes you in where

To die like this you know, oh oh oh. So baby keep my heart beat be'beat beat beating. She's the soul reason I keep believing, that were going. For every grain of sand, that you drew me pictures in. She's the soul reason I keep believing, that were going

You're so cool. I want to be just like you. I've got these pictures keep on rolling around my head. I want to hang them on the wall above my bed. And it's so easy to step aside And walk in line like all the rest. But IQ never did that well on tests. I

That night I saw through all the magic I barely recognized him at all That night I put my youth in a casket And buried it inside of me Now I'm a witness to the death of a hero I burned all the pictures in the attic And threw away the magazines And now

God only knows why we were born to burn He doesn't fucking love us The sons and daughters that you wished to forget A desperate picture of God's regret Are we perfect mistakes? Or almighty fuck ups? One thing's for sure, he doesn't fucking love us

And it's your face, I'm looking for On every street There's gotta be a record of you some place You gotta be on somebodys books The lowdown, a picture of your face Your injured looks The sacred and profane The pleasure and the pain Somewhere your

Image that imagine that imagine that imagine that imagine imagine that Imagine that Close your eyes Now relax your mind Now I want you to picture yourself far far away (Prepare yourself girl cause we bout to take a ride)

I know we'll be lovers again, darling I know we'll be lovers again It's a matter of time The one in the end, I was your friend Till you see that I'm I got pictures of you in funny poses Letters from you with pressed yellow roses I've got souvenirs of fun

Stupid old pickup truck You never let me drive You're a redneck heartbreak Who's really bad at lying So watch me strike a match On all my wasted time Just another picture to burn As far as I'm concerned you're 'Cause I hate that