DIRT ON THE NAME OF STEVEN Zheani
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "DIRT ON THE NAME OF STEVEN" by Zheani. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Intro]
Aaron
[Chorus (Condensed)]
I can’t forgive him or myself
“Na zdrowie!” Pour it out for health
Just a mutt bitch that grew up in hell
And fuck, I got stories to tell
[Verse 1]
They called my dad a creeper when they stripped me away from him
On sad days I believed them, dirt on the name of Steven
Teenage cuts, cuts that ain’t stopped bleeding
To feel is fuckin' freedom, I got my Eastern Dreamin
Swimmin', he’s a fiend, chances are he’ll make a scene
There he goes again, rude cunt, real cunt
(Yah) Mongrel blood is deeper, drownin' with no culture
Some boys think they’re predators when they’re really vultures
Hell is bubblin’ over, tell me can you smell the sulfur?
Take another toke and melt into the sofa
You need a bad man to keep the bad men at the door
Only God is keeping score, I’m Madonna and the whore
And they keep on wanting more and I keep on letting blood
Even though I gave it all, mind’s racing back and forth
Shoulda fuckin' took that call, reaper man was at his door
And when he died his heart was sore
Aaron
[Chorus (Condensed)]
I can’t forgive him or myself
“Na zdrowie!” Pour it out for health
Just a mutt bitch that grew up in hell
And fuck, I got stories to tell
[Verse 1]
They called my dad a creeper when they stripped me away from him
On sad days I believed them, dirt on the name of Steven
Teenage cuts, cuts that ain’t stopped bleeding
To feel is fuckin' freedom, I got my Eastern Dreamin
Swimmin', he’s a fiend, chances are he’ll make a scene
There he goes again, rude cunt, real cunt
(Yah) Mongrel blood is deeper, drownin' with no culture
Some boys think they’re predators when they’re really vultures
Hell is bubblin’ over, tell me can you smell the sulfur?
Take another toke and melt into the sofa
You need a bad man to keep the bad men at the door
Only God is keeping score, I’m Madonna and the whore
And they keep on wanting more and I keep on letting blood
Even though I gave it all, mind’s racing back and forth
Shoulda fuckin' took that call, reaper man was at his door
And when he died his heart was sore
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