choke on a crooked breathnin a dope nose deliriumnyou got a fragile face in a public placenwe walk through the night to get it rightnto have a confessionngot a pen in my handngot a girl in my headngot crumbling teethni got dirty sheetsni walk through the nightnwith a thorn in my sidenand with no connectionnnthe days just roll bynand the songs write themselvesnlike little bombs they just blow upnfriendly fire that shoots itselfnnthis is the house that you’re fromnand that is how far you’ve comeni know why you leftni think it’s best you get far awaynand set it to flamesnnthe days just roll bynand the songs write themselvesnlike little bombs they just blow upnfriendly fire that shoots itselfnnand the days just roll bynthe songs write themselvesnlike little bombs they just blow upnfriendly fire that shoots itself