Blood, Death & Taxes

So close so far away
suspected so you say
They´ve got a place for me
I´m a displaced society.

I´m not looking for compensation
I want some justice
Tell you what they want from me
Blood, death and taxes.

Fed up – My hands are tied
Frustrated – Down the line
Busted and out of time.
How could I have been so blind.

They won´t fuckin´ rest until I´m dead.