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lyrics

What do we know of hatred?
What do we know of hatred or anything we’ve been?
We shoot with a medal in mind,
Claim it bold, claim it bold our prize.
Dressing sons in the linens of our madness,
Trophy heads on the walls, do we rest in peace?

Sink your fucking teeth in,
Dead raised for death,
Sink your fucking teeth in,
Dead raised for death,
Sink your fucking teeth,

There is only blood for the painting, there is only blood for the painting,
Bold men of craft for the taking, there is only blood in the paintings.

So what are we gonna reveal for the show?
What are we gonna’ reveal for the masses?
The multitude is waiting.
Time heals all our tarred souls, but history’s one hell of feathered road.
We cut the frame to cover ghosts in the mansion walls,
Hey, hey, hey hey hey.

There is only blood for the painting,
There is only blood for the painting
There is only blood for the painting.

Call us when the curtain is raising,
There is only blood in the paintings

credits

from Junior In His Prime EP, released December 4, 2014

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Junior In His Prime Boone, North Carolina

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