You had it all, the hitmans strong armed shore. You're looking down and your heart is bleeding out the corn I picked up from our fight. You're going to bleed once you're back again, and I'm going let you leave to go back to go inside out of your kin's safe bed tonight. 

If you have a reason to fight; I know you're strong, you can chase em. When you lay down tonight, I know the thnig's you're saying; the things you'd know if you let them come in at night. You let them down, and it's beating colder to your delusional sense of giving. 

You're not going to live in Mexico, because there's no cure for our old faithful.  You're bleeding through my reason to fight and I know I'm not patient. I could lay down to die tonight, and know that there's no answers.