(Renton) When you wake up far too often with your bullets drawn, Your stomach just torn, and with your bullets drawn: you're on your own.
There's no rival like the woman to your brittle soul, When she made you a promise (to your brittle soul), you must be alone.
She drew me in, and I followed. She drew me in, the bit got swallowed. She drew me in, the vow was spoken. She drew me in, now completely broken.
Then she said, "you ain't getting nowhere". Another promised land? Where the grass was just greener? Another promised land? Not having that.
And so it seemed: the cow delivered just offensive charm. It didn't mean nothing. Just offensive charm. She'd not follow through.
She drew me in, and I followed. She drew me in, the bit got swallowed. She drew me in, the vow was spoken. She drew me in, now completely broken.
Oh Lord, she drew me in. Oh Lord, she drew me in. She drew me in, the vow was spoken. She drew me in, completely broken. She drew me in, but now I'm full awoken.