
Devil Ronnie Radke
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Devil" от Ronnie Radke. Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.

[Intro]
Uh, you made it
Uh, Radke
You made it, uh, yeah
[Verse 1]
There ain't no heaven, (Heaven, heaven) only hell (Hell, hell)
We all got devils, (Devils, devils) stories to tell (Tell, tell)
Mine are scary, no light ahead
The monsters are livin' under your bed, they're the voices in your head
You best play dead, that's what I heard them say
As I fell to my knees to pray
But if heaven is a joke and god is a lie
Then I'm praying to something fake
I'm so sick of it
Tired of this, sick and tired of being tired and sick
Stick to the plan inspire and spit
Like a wick to a candle, ignite that shit
In the dead of night, lightning struck
Kickin' up dust like a pickup truck
I'm a ticking time bomb with sublime on
Looking for a piece of paper to write on
My mom, left me as a baby in a house with the lights off
All night long is the reason I write songs
I was eight months, now I'm famous
Glad I made it, irony ain't it?
Uh, you made it
Uh, Radke
You made it, uh, yeah
[Verse 1]
There ain't no heaven, (Heaven, heaven) only hell (Hell, hell)
We all got devils, (Devils, devils) stories to tell (Tell, tell)
Mine are scary, no light ahead
The monsters are livin' under your bed, they're the voices in your head
You best play dead, that's what I heard them say
As I fell to my knees to pray
But if heaven is a joke and god is a lie
Then I'm praying to something fake
I'm so sick of it
Tired of this, sick and tired of being tired and sick
Stick to the plan inspire and spit
Like a wick to a candle, ignite that shit
In the dead of night, lightning struck
Kickin' up dust like a pickup truck
I'm a ticking time bomb with sublime on
Looking for a piece of paper to write on
My mom, left me as a baby in a house with the lights off
All night long is the reason I write songs
I was eight months, now I'm famous
Glad I made it, irony ain't it?
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