Tires

The blood eye is a secret The blood eye the blood eye The blood eye is a promise The blood eye is a lie The blood eye is a secret The blood eye the blood eye The blood eye is a promise The blood eye is a lie We don't run away from what they have to say about luck (I don't think I'll catch a break on this one) Sick of my second skin The grade of my favorite street I got smoke in my tires (I was the air in your tires)