Rev, with Ron

Was it blood on the breeze
That brought you to me,
Or the warmth of my freshly killed corpse?
Did you sense my mistake
Or the cruel hand of fate?
Must you laugh while you beat a dead horse?

(Chorus)
So go on and take what you came for,
All you jackals and vultures and thieves,
With your gossip, your lies, and your hearsay.
Let the ravens pick clean what you leave.

It was "He said" and "She said"
Put a smile on your face,
The while my loss kept you all entertained.
Or perhaps you mistook
All the pleasure you took
For concern for a friend feeling pain?

Chorus

And I hope you decline
To put in more time.
Were you really so bored?
Is this all you afford?

So don't find me lacking 
Cause I'm sending you packing.
Your welcome's worn out around here.
You inflicted your fill
Of disorganized will,
And what's left is a gray atmosphere.

Chorus