Before I go to you I never wash my neck. 'Cause when the music starts it goes straight to my head. And I break out in pale. You better bring your fork and knife.
Hot hands move things. I write on his wall, I have no mind at all. Hot things move him. I write on his wall, I have no heart at all. . I think she's a pretty little fool, she holds me down, she flows.
Before I go to you I never wash my neck. 'Cause when the music starts it goes straight to your head. And I break out in pale. I break out in pale. You better bring your fork and knife.