My scabs are almost picked. Slowly growing into this, feelings I just can't let go. I am such a bore that you need that much more. Go back that way and see what you get from me then.
My scabs are almost picked. Slowly growing into this, feelings I just can't let go. I am such a bore that you need that much more. Go back that way and see what you get from me then.
Hell bent for leather on a moonlit night. There's a hot wind blowing better hold on tight. To your soul. . Blue fire rising up from the deep. Burning the world just when it's trying to sleep.