Lost Art of Murder

                                  Roll a four, roll a nine

Find yourself washed up in paradise

Like before you didn't mind

Someone else washed up in paradise, everyday



What a nice day for a murder

Yourself a killer but the only thing you're killing is your time

There's nothing absurder than a burd'

It's a burden to your heart, soul, body, spirit and mind



Don't look back at me like that, she won't take you back

I said too much, been too unkind

Get off your back, stop smoking that

Change your life, just might change her mind, her mind



Roll a four, roll a nine

Find yourself washed up in paradise

All the fours to all the nines

I lost my phone in paradise, pay as you go



What a nice day for a murder

Say you're a killer, I think you're killing is time

There's nothing absurder than a burd'

It's a burden to your heart, soul, body, spirit and mind



Oh, don't look at me like that, she won't take you back

Done too much, been too unkind

Get up off your back, stop smoking that

Change your life, think it'll change her mind



Don't look at me like that, she won't take you back

Said too much, been too unkind

Get up off your back, stop smoking that

Change your life, just might change her mind