Violets In My Hand Lyrics - Venerea

This is a story about a man 

A short story about the violence in his hand 

On automatic trigger 

He ain't used to taking shit 

So no one's giving it 

And his ego's getting bigger 

He's scarred by his own civil war 

Hate - he hurts the ones he hates 

He hurts the ones he loves and don't care for 

The reaper sleeps on his floor 

Violence, violence in his hand 

As a child he slept on rainy roofs 

Safe from his father's cloven hooves 

And his mother's eyes of fire 

They never figured out what it all meant 

The fear of descent 

So, rising from the pyre and the smoke 

Redeemingly soaked by the rain 

To wash away the pain 

To loosen up the strain upon his mind 

He still keeps it inside 

Violence, violence in his hands