I'm not the freckled maid. I'm not the fair-haired girl. I'm not a pail of milk for you to spoil. . Why are the wholesome things. The ones we make obscene?.
Flies in amber, sand in soap. Air trapped in the glass. Tongue-tied, I cut and run. Fleeing ever faster. . Behind the armory. I will never let you see.
Flies in amber, sand in soap. Air trapped in the glass. Tongue-tied, I cut and run. Fleeing ever faster. . Behind the armory. I will never let you see.