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The Collector lyrics
Homicide, sweet suicide
Natural causes, day or night
Duty calls, I'm rolling on
And it's no place you wanna go
Ya see I'm not like all the rest
Some may question my line of work
But I've got a family
And I feed them off of death
There's some work all over this town
You need the stomach for
There's some folks who've paid my way
For skills I'm known for
The streets don't light no more
Oh they haven't in many years
And the ground I tread across
Is stained over with blood and tears
They gave up hope here long ago
And it's never coming back
But there's ways to prosper here
If you know what you're looking for
There's some work all over this town
You need the stomach for
There's some folks who've paid my way
For skills I'm known for
In misery there's a profit
No shortage here this place is Hell
I clean the mess when the time comes
With a rubber bag I'm the collector
Homicide, sweet suicide
Natural causes, they all died
Murder city is a haven
When your business deals in death
There's some work all over this town
You need the stomach for
There's some folks who've paid my way
For skills I'm known for
In misery there's a profit
No shortage here this place is Hell
I clean the mess when the time comes
With a rubber bag I'm the collector
The collector
The collector
Thanks to
Silas
for submitting the lyrics.
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