When you are going in prison,
it’s really hard to trace.
When you are going in prison.
You like this suicidal race.
And someone with the eyes can see the blue label,
blue label on your pale face.
After the killing and crowning,
the Deadman wants beer.
After a thriller and trashing,
the stage is unwanted like fear.
Something is blinking in darkness. I see the blue label.
Your face cannot be clear.
I know you are in the subway now.
There are mad blend of hopes.
I know you’ve avoided the white crown,
the train you travelled stops.
In tunnel of every tune you get the blue label,
exactly on the top.