“It wasn't fair A clumsy father's fist And little me Unable to resist And I was locked again He used to mock Into the deepest basement Of a raw rock A basement store And little me in vain Those creepy crawlers Used to entertain They told me stories Of the Flower and the Bone They used to feed me With the bodies of their own”
It seems that father’s near, alone To start an ultraviolence show Why don't you come and sidle up to me? I've got a gift to turn it real - a fantasy
The silence is not aloud The scream I need I want it now and here
In silence I can't exist No reason why My angel is a freak
Why are you standing here alone, alone? You are the meaning of the show, the show Why don't you come and sidle up to me? I've got a gift to turn it real - a fantasy
Why don’t you come and sidle up to me I've got a gift to turn it real - a fantasyTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
