Cut, cut, cutlasses.
Had some bad luck, took some risks, took some ill-advised taxi trips.
And it's not heaven you found.
It's just a better dressed predator.
I've been crashing at yr house, got some floor to ceiling doubts and now I'm stuck inside the darkest corners.
I will meet you out by the crossroads where the fashion pubs breed.
I want it, I got it, a promise, in pieces!
You said yourself, you'd talk to anyone, this could be the last you see of him.
Slow, slow, slower.
Let the courtyard smokers cough stories to each other outside.
And on the tip of your tongue.
Slug salt and spit it out.
I've been crashing at yr house, got some floor to ceiling doubts and now I'm stuck inside the darkest corners.
I will meet you out by the crossroads where the fashion pubs breed.
I want it, I got it, a promise, in pieces!
You said yourself, you'd talk to anyone, this could be the last you see of him.
At the crossroads where the fashion pubs breed.
I want it, I got it, a promise, in pieces!
You said yourself, you'd talk to anyone, this could be the last you see of him.
Look around and everyone's industry.
Keep to the left and fat thighs are back again.