Bloody History

You can blame it all on me.
 You can blame it all.
 You will never amount to much they say,
 you've heard it your whole life and
 you've been trying your best 'til your dying day.
 But now your gripping the knife
 On the edge; ain't it grand,
 Outrunning the reaper man.
 Trapped like a rat with the wall at your back,
 holding until the timing is right.
 In this pitiful plight.
 You can blame it all on me.
 You can blame it all.
 Spring forth from the earth,
 you were born from dirt.
 You're a man of mud and misery.
 And glad that you are; you've been sin from the start.
 And you blame it on your bloody history,
 blame it on your bloody history.
 Yoy blame it in history,
 like the branches of this tree.
 Blame it on me.
 Breathless are the ones that
 never shut their mouths,
 with pumping bellows.
 Innocent men recently condemned,
 being led to the gallows.
 You can blame it all on me.
 You can blame it all.