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The blistering mouth, a judgemental eye, the thoughts of an idiot stick.
Well...
Your humour is crass and simple of mind, this coward is never a miss.
Well...
It used to be chat, not all of it with, the temper it never does fit.
Well...
This sullen is fun, we knew you had won, the price of this heaven is shit.
Well...
But when the wind blows, your phase will stick like ugly.
How pure is my mind, now i'm sure this is my mind.
The teeth in your ties, the fold in your eyes, melancholy, fashionable, sick.
Well...
A bleed on the side, we know it's unkind, deserved was never like this.
Well...
The beef in your mind, the birth of the blind, the stink of inedible piss.
Well...
This sullen is fun, we knew you had won, the price of this heaven is shit.
Well...