Maybe These Boys... - The Church

Framed up baby, know her place

Slippery salmon all over her face

Browsing down through the mirrored hall

See Arizona standing ten feet tall

Her father’s smart, plays his part

Twirls his star and watch them start

Oh no no don’t wander off the set

We haven’t reached the borders yet

Then into town he rides in grim

All the mercenaries are following him

Ripped and raw, lays his glove on the door

Walks in and tells the man on the floor

Maybe these boys want to do some talking

Your room’s a mess, it’s ugliness

But I go on living in it till you say yes

The curtains are new, but the windows are old

All the stories passing through already been told

We live in a style where trust is a drag

To hold up your end means the middle will sag

Some blackhearted actors interfered in your scene

And you can’t stand success or the place where it’s been

The fader’s been placed, judgment passed down

Staying up all night till pure sleep drags you down

Ripped and raw, her voice at the door

Walks in, expecting him, finds something more

Says maybe these boys want to do some talking