Bloodshot Outlaw Riot

(hell yeah)

Dirt road smoking from the rubber we burn Pitchfork spinning on a

point of no return Scythe in the hand,

dust cloud in the sky Spitting heavy fire,

watching everything die

Harvest of fire, iron in the soil Blood in the well and

the water starts to boil Harvest of fire,

hear the engine roar We are the sons of the deathcore barn

floor

Out in the fields where the crows don't fly Shadows growing long

under rusted-out sky Cold moon rising,

reaper's on the clock Lock and load the barrel with a shotgun

shock

Harvest of fire, iron in the soil Blood in the well and

the water starts to boil Harvest of fire,

hear the engine roar We are the sons of the deathcore barn

floor (blegh)

Down in the clay (we decay)