Can I lift my dress up for you?
Can I lift it in the night?
The white undersides of my thighs look much better in the dying light
There's a kid in there and he's big, and dumb and he's kinda scared, and he's
Well, he's too old to be there
He's just looking for a ride
And I'll lift it to the ceiling tiles
Of stadiums and shrines
You see something to cheer about
Well I'll tell you that it's mine
And I'm sorry that your mother died
But that one wasn't my fault
And I'm sorry anybody dies at all these days
So hold all of your knives away from my eyes
Hold all of your knives away from my eyes

INVIA LE CORREZIONI