Horns - Children Of Bodom

Bloodshot eyes and a dead beat stance

Shit for brains I’m a game of change

One cut, two cut counting scars

Three cut horns up behind the bars

I’m not your patron saint

I’m not your patron saint

Horns up or down and now horns up

I am your warpaint

You’re not my angel dear

You’re not my angel dear

Lets make this crystal clear

Horns up I am your worst fear

It’s not the cough that carries me off

It’s the motherfucking coffin they carry me off in

It’s not the cough that carries you off

oh, it’s the coffin they carry you off in

I’m not your patron saint

I’m not your patron saint

Horns up or down and now horns up

I am your warpaint

You’re not my angel dear

You’re not my angel dear

Lets make this crystal clear

Horns up I am your worst fear

One shot, ten shot just in case

what it takes to get you out of my face

If I wake up strapped up in my bed

You can slit my wrists I’d rather be dead

I’m not your patron saint

I’m not your patron saint

Horns up or down and now horns up

I am your warpaint

You’re not my angel dear

You’re not my angel dear

Lets make this crystal clear

Horns up I am your worst fear