We've been seeing red for so long, and I've forgotten all the words to those songs. On a highway to hell, it's a high price to pay; I tell my conscience make my ego go away, but my ego has led my conscience astray.
And I'll be singing at your funeral. And I'll be grieving when you're dead. But I've turned all my cash into black smoldering ash, so I can't afford the gasoline to say, "Hello"
"Hello", Oh hello. How long? Until I'm six feet in the ground, on my way, to hell-oh.
And how many bridges, will you burn?
And how many phone calls will you not return?
Before you realize your self-consciousness, acts as self-righteousness.