Samuel F. Scott and the BOP with Black Mark.

I leave a message I write a little note.

You send a letter to the paper Cut from the words I wrote

You say you got his heart

You got his mind too

If he's gonna think again

They better say what you do

And it's a strange thought

For me to dwell upon now

But you're gonna drag me down

I'm gonna drag you along

And it's a strange way

For you to show me your heart

My selling my body pulse on the black mark What's the deal? Why you never call me back?

You're the rabbit with a habit.

I'm the hunter with a smile.

Why not? I guess I'll give it a shot. Take the terror to the top with a tick and a tuck of the

strange bomb. It's going to blow us apart. And we're standing on top of the black mark it's a strange way for you to show me your heart by selling it all with god on the black mark

On the best of us to part it

We're strung out and discarded

And we sell our sorry

soul

...