I am the fury of a bomb Agent Orange, tiger print, Vietnam A thousand words in the crest of my palm Just one death sentence written in a fucking song We are the ones, the ones you’re always calling faceless But we got the guns, the guns that gonna make you face it Don’t even run, because the fun is getting wasted Young renegades, we’re gonna make some changesYou’re just a live grenade Young renegade You’re just a live grenade Young renegadeYoung renegade Young renegade Young renegade Young renegadeComing out the gate, I got your number, better pray It’s not a revolution but they both sound the same Yeah, you’re always starting fires, put ’em out a little late You’re all such wicked motherfuckers, can’t take the pain It’s sunset in ghost town, hold your holy ghost now There’s blood in the streets with your grave underneath now I’m hanging by a thread, I’ve got a crucifix bed My eyes are open wide so I’ll sleep when I’m deadYou’re just a live grenade
Young renegade You’re just a live grenade Young renegadeYoung renegade Young renegade Young renegade Young renegadeMan down, shots ringing out loud Man down, shots ringing out loud Man down, shots ringing out loud Man down, everybody get the fuck downGet the fuck down Get the fuck down Get the fuck down Get the fuck downYou’re just a live grenade Young renegade You’re just a live grenade (You’re just a live grenade) Young renegadeYoung renegade Young renegade Young renegade Young renegade…
