I'll spread me open, stuck to my ribs Are all your infants in abortion cribs You run like roaches, and you try to die I know your poison, in our space we'll lie To an obscene god we will dance and spit The skin is thin, in our beds we sit We take off our rings and we kneel Our scabbed knees are so slow to heal Stretch a little boy hole For looking-glass people I don't want to be me I don't want to fear, no Momma's got a scarecrow Got to let the corn grow A man can't always reap what he sows (Cut, cut, cut in pantomime, mime, mime I'll be your devil if you'll admit you're mine.) Leave yourself to be ultra-here. The chill of fall is always crawling near Spiders in the flowers Never know their smell The barbers here know secrets They will never tell (Cut, cut, cut in pantomime, mime, mime I'll be your devil if you'll admit you're mine.) Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
