You’ve Convinced Me Welcome, my friends, to the scene of the crime. At the time of the crime, where were you? Where was I? Where were you? You were nowhere with no one doing nothing, baby. It’s a shame, it’s a shame. Welcome, you fiends, you vultures, you parasites. What’s the view like down there? It’s handsome like I was when I was my old self, but now I’m as ugly as sin. Still I’m the toast of Paris. I’m the blood of Christ. I’ve got to mean something to someone at some point here. All this blood, but she still said that she wanted more; I couldn’t stop now, anyway. And the deeper I twist the knife, the more she squeals in delight. “Kill me slower,” she would beg.
The Dark Ages The last thing I remember is that feeling in the dark. I’ve been dreaming about it lately. Oh, my love, my love, where’d you go? I had a conscience once, but it drove me mad, And as I cut her up my mind was somewhere else. Either I was blind with rage, or there was someone else in the driver’s seat. I swear it wasn’t me. But what we have here before us is a guilty man. Guilty. I took her somewhere nice. I took her somewhere clean, given the state of things. I made here wipe her feet. I made her wash her hands, But that wasn’t everything, no, that wasn’t half of it. Next I made her smile from ear to ear, and her cheeks grow warm with blood. She had me drowning in her blood, but I didn’t want to breathe. No, I never want to breathe again. Hold it in until you’re red. You’ve lost your friends, you’ve lost your family. You’re not content with the clothes that you will die in. I think we’re done here. No, wait a minute, your lives are pointless and I am Charlemagne.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel I saw her once, in all grey, in a hospital. She didn’t speak. No, she never spoke to me. She had her friends talk for her. You know, the ones with the stitched-up wrists. They said she thinks I’m swell, but on pills, everything’s swell. Everything’s okay for now. They had us falling asleep with their sleeping pills. They had us wide awake at dawn. But at least there was you in nothing but grey. I saw her once in my room after midnight. Her skin, in the moonlight, was shaded in grey. But the warmth of her body I’ll never forget. She held me captive in a castle of grey. Ain’t nothing like sleeping with the devil. Ain’t like you can hide beneath the covers. Just gotta keep quiet, baby, just gotta be quiet.
Hello, Gorgeous We should hang out more often. Love you to death, pretty lady. I hear you whisper back from beneath the pillow, “I can barely breathe.” We should hang out more often! All this blood is just too much. And when the morning comes, it’s cold and pale, just like my love. No rusted knives, no trails of blood, just you, my love. I held my breath. I held my breath for you, my love. You never said you’d love me back, you never did. But then everyone was there just to see how in love we were. No one said a word. They all just stood and stared. All my love is just too much love. For you.
Pleading Insane Hello, courtroom. You’ve got a guilty man. How long will it take for you to understand? I ain’t no preacher, no, I ain’t no preacher man. I’m the forgotten son. I’m the wounded lamb. “Don’t even look at me. You’re despicable. I can’t even fathom your wickedness. Just look in his eyes. He’s a monster, he’s a snake! Deceitful, filthy wretch. There he sits, holding his tongue, waiting to devour you all. Halt, wounded lamb, you won’t last in the moors.” Mr. Black, you nearly gave me a heart attack talking like that. All these wolves have got this wounded lamb scared to death and all alone. Oh, Mr. Black, you’re not nearly dead enough yet. Your presence sickens me. Sure, I’m not happy with where I’m at, but at least I’m not you. At least I’m not you. “Look at me, I’m happy. Genuinely fucking happy. I’ve got the suit, I’ve got the cars. I’ve got the money. I’ve got the women. You’ve got the jury, but they don’t even like you.”
La Deuxième Partie Oh, jury, look at him now. Aching for whiskey, some fancy cigar. But you can’t win them all. No you can’t, can you? Look at him stutter, look at him quake, Adjusting his tie, the corporate snake. The big, bad wolf, Mr. Black. Your honor, look at him now. He’s shaking. He knows I’ll be back just for him. He’s watching me go. And as I walk through the doors and see the sun, I reflect, But just for a moment.
Dead Man Walking I had it all. But now all I’ve got is this rope. And this man in a mask who’s pushing me further in. He’s got my arms pinned behind my back. While a lady in white is sticking needles into my skin. Through the sounds of strangulation, guttural and forced, silent is the lamb. Slaughtering the slaughterers. Oh, wounded lamb, don’t you know I see you even now? Don’t you know I see you while you give me his soul and take his gun? Through the doors and into the hall Singing songs of old French remorse, Charlemagne. Saw her smiles of admiration, beautiful and fierce. Whispers in my ear, “this will only sting a little bit.” Oh, wounded lamb, don’t you know that I want you even now? Don’t you know I love the way you look at me with the gun? Through the doors and in from the hall, Singing songs of old French remorse, Charlemagne. Bienvenue, mes amis, à la scène du crime — partie trois. Oh mon dieu. Your heart is cold, but my heart is gone.
The Preacher’s Daughter Oh, lovely lady, get your dancing shoes on. We’re going dancing tonight. You’ve got your white dress, I’ve got my .22. Oh, baby, I didn’t wanna fall in love with you. I didn’t wanna have to say it. Your father tried to warn you, the preacher’s daughter. Spilled the punch on the preacher’s daughter. The less you talk the more they’ll watch you. You better give her a show. Oh, no. I need a doctor! Go on, get me a doctor, honey! I need you to cure me. I need to get healthy, baby. I didn’t wanna have to hold you. Your father tried to warn you, the preacher’s daughter. Spilled the punch on the preacher’s daughter. The less you talk the more they’ll watch you. You better give her a show. Oh, no. The preacher’s daughter — he was fucking with the preacher’s daughter.
The Honorable Mr. Black “You’re priceless, son, but I’m sure you know this, wounded lamb. Ha! One of a kind? Bullshit. I see it all the time, wounded lamb.” Mr. Black ain’t alone in the morning, ever. He sees your soul through your pupils. He trades it for 16-year-old scotch. In the morning. Drinks in the morning. Court in the morning. Oh, such a fat, fat wolf. But such an honorable man! Mr. Black, you’ve got quite the reputation, I must admit. But that doesn’t mean I give a shit. This means I don’t give a shit. “Oh, don’t you remember her? She was clad in grey. Sad, sad prisoner.” Her soul was mine. Mr. Black takes a step a little closer. Maybe? No. Then again, what’s one more body? It ain’t 16-year-old scotch. It’s rotting. Black, you’re rotting! Let me help you rot. Such a fat, fat wolf. But such an honorable man! Mr. Black, you’ve got quite the reputation, I must admit. But that doesn’t mean I give a shit. This means I don’t give a shit. “Oh, don’t you remember her? She was clad in grey. Sad, sad prisoner.” Her soul was mine.
A Showdown in the Courtroom Mr. Black, you’re praying for rain, but the storm is coming too fast. You step outside right into my open mouth. Big bad wolf? Bullshit! “Hmm…you piece of shit. You think the love you had was real But when you look back, can you tell which one was which? ‘Cause in the end they were all the same.” This isn’t my turf. This isn’t my home. This isn’t where I belong, but I’m gonna show you how it’s done. The guards start, but I move too quick, And as your brain shuts down, your body throws a fit. Oh, I hope it hurts!
R.A.R. I’d be a liar if I told you I was prepared. The less you talk here, the more they watch you, but at least you’re not alone. No, you’re not, are you? It takes every ounce of pride that I have left not to hang myself with bedsheets. Or cut myself in two. With all my heart and all my mind, I tried. With all my strength and all my soul I failed you. I let you down and I can’t face these demons, these devils, that are haunting me. And after all this shit, this pity fuck that I went through, I’m breaking out. But I’m dead inside, my love. At least it was convenient, at least it wasn’t all my fault. As long as I can blame you for everything that I’ve become, it wouldn’t pan out. No, no, I’d be a liar! Blood and guts, blood and guts, you got my shirt all dirty with your blood and guts. I need a shower. I need to clean myself up. I need to do something with myself. Write down the things that you prefer. Put some feeling into every fucking word. ‘Cause everything’s an apology when you’re dealing with a guy like me. Look at you, kid. Who are you writing to? All this blood, I can’t see. I can’t speak. I can’t breathe.
The Prisoner’s Cinema Oh, wounded lamb, I see you struggling to breathe. Blood on your hands, your soul is mine to reap. I’ve seen it all. You’ll be happy to know, prisoner, I’m gonna take you home. So you ain’t got a heart? Then what’s that I hear beating? I hear the beating slow. How you cherish every fragile breath you breathe. A sudden lust for life just as you start to swing… ”Just because.” I chose the bedsheets instead of the razorblades. I guess I just wanted to go like her. Hold my breath, or better yet, a broken neck. Maybe I’ll never know. Maybe there’s a god I should have answered to. Maybe there’s a hell. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll see you there.