Wood Jackson

Jackson made twenty tapes in a day To give away, a give away And he'd play The tuns they'd call creative when they're running out of names Heaven knows, he's really torn it Now But the names that hurt poor Jackson stopped the haters in his way Heaven knows he's for it Shame Hey hey He was never quite unsure but rarely sane Wants to play Jackson stole twenty souls in a day To take away, a take way, he takes away And no complaints Heart upon his sleeve and his blade Wood Jackson tool a beating every day Given out, passed way Another way Hey hey Just want to play And how he'd play The mob they bleed and tremble when they're running after life Heaven knows he's really torn it now The words that killed Wood Jackson's friends were written on the wall Heaven knows he's for it Shame Just wants to play It's a shame Shame It's a shame Just wants to play It's a shame It's a shame Just wants to play