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Yeah, it's dynamite, the way he takes his life and then you jump in with your qicked croquet heart and then you fill your self with cancer as he burns at your feet and then you spill your guys that sexy disemboweling chic it's like a kiss/kiss on the forehead and it's how you kiss them that just cracks my skin through it's time to steal another kiss from your broad shoulders it's time you lick my heart and burn my eyes with your hip acid filled caress you keep the endings coming and I'll keep the vomit flowing your mating calls are showing that the best thing in life aren't worth loving what if I lined my lips with your poison then you'd better kiss me; you'd better make me give in, make me your everything come and get your kiss on the forehead we'll blame it on the housing projects what an index that could make for what your body is scarred from the bombs on the first floor we'll blame it on the housing projects then flaunt that lower class depression just like you flaunt the fact that you can't feel for nothing 18 years trying to get it right ballistic hematoma tries to suck the scars from the bombs From Letras Mania