| You might not remember how we sleep in the past
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| I’ll soon remind you when
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| I cut off the hand that was promised to me
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| And then we’ll shake on it
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| Those stains you can’t hide or the smell of his sweat
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| Are they so permanent?
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| Did you scratch your left eye?
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| Did it blink three times?
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| Or once just to reel you in?
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| On your blackened breath
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| Did he smell of us
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| To taste of poison sweets
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| I’ve got to rid the world of your intentions wrapped to cut like a stuck pig
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| And give me that flesh please
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| The one that talks like me
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| I really want it now
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| Baby, put it on slowly
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| I want you to show me
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| Does it make you feel alright?
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| When I peeked inside your room through that rusty bitten lock
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| You sank a nail inside of me that was twenty years too long
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| The black stockades you kept, smell of wet cigarette
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| And the sweat that just would not cease
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| I have been for far too long
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| Just to keep you here on this leash
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| For the rest of your debt
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| 'Cause I knew you’d forget
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| I throw ashes at the bones of your feet
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| Now that you slay with a pack of strays
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| I do believe you’re not the mongrel for me
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| And give me that flesh please
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| The one that talks like me
|
| I really want it now
|
| Baby, put it on slowly
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| I want ya to show me
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| Does it make you feel alright? |