Lost Art Of Murder

Roll a four, roll a nine
Find yourself washed up in paradise
Just like before you didn't mind
Someone else washed up in paradies
Every day

What a nice day for a murder
You call yourself a killer
But the only thing you're killing is your time
There's nothing absurder
Than a bird that's a burden to your heart, soul, body, spirit and mind.

Don't look at me like that she won't take you back
Said to much been too unkind
Get up 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 or all the nines
I lost my phone in paradise
Pay as you go

What a nice day for a murder
You call yourself a killer
But the only thing you're killing is time
There's nothing absurder

Than a bird that's a burden to your heart, soul, body, spirit and mind

Don't look at me like that
She won't take you back
Done too much been to unkind
Get up off your back, stop smoking that
Change your life
Think it'll change her mind