Eyes like a slash across her face Lips I'd kill a man to taste Whatever this stuff is, I'm buying Whatever it does, I'll do it 'til I'm dying
I can't wash her away It's getting under my skin I can't wash her away I can feel her closing in
Hands like a carnival of queens Hair like a heart attack of dreams A voice so soft you could cut it with a kiss Screams so small you could hold them in your fist Little white fingertips running up your back Little needling scores where her nails leave a track
I can't wash her away She's living in my skin I can't seem to wash her away I can feel her closing in
Eyes like a slash across her face Lips so damn sweet you'd cut your tonuge out for a taste Whatever this stuff is, I'm buying If she's nothing but a coffin least she's good enough to die in She's a ballroom full of dancing chairs She's a child in disguise hiding bullets in her hair A voice so soft you could cut it with a kiss Screams so small you could hold them in your fist Every one night stand is a six week stretch Craving her arms twisted up around your neck Skin so white, a heart so pure If you opeden up her veins you'd see the light run through her
Compositores: Iain Wallace Harvie, Justin Robert Currie ECAD: Obra #30666294