Violets In My Hand Lyrics

Violets In My Hand lyrics

This is a story about a man

A short story about the violence in his hand

On automatic trigger

He ain't used to taking shit

So no one's giving it

And his ego's getting bigger

He's scarred by his own civil war

Hate – he hurts the ones he hates

He hurts the ones he loves and don't care for

The reaper sleeps on his floor



Violence, violence in his hand



As a child he slept on rainy roofs

Safe from his father's cloven hooves

And his mother's eyes of fire

They never figured out what it all meant

The fear of descent

So, rising from the pyre and the smoke

Redeemingly soaked by the rain

To wash away the pain

To loosen up the strain upon his mind

He still keeps it inside



Violence, violence in his hands