And how it fucks up with love every now and then
It doesn't necessarily have to be yours
You've got no short stories
Well I've no eyes in my head
More than vagina you said
And its lies lies lies in your head
More than your vagina I said
May I suggest you expect to be happy
With flaws, imperfection (in perfection?)
You're closing your eyes to all ready-made babies
Well I've no eyes in my head
More than vagina you said
And its lies lies lies in your head
More than your vagina I said
listen is the father the son
The hungry the ghost of all those
It doesn't necessarily have to be yours
You've got no short stories
Well I've no eyes in my head
More than vagina you said
And its lies lies lies in your head
More than your vagina I said