Monday, August 14, 2006


This bed is on fire
With passionate love
The neighbours complain about the noises above
But she only comes when shes on top

My therapist said not to see you no more
She said youre like a disease without any cure
She said Im so obsessed that Im becoming a bore, oh no
Ah, you think youre so pretty

Caught your hand inside the till
Slammed your fingers in the door
Fought with kitchen knives and skewers
Dressed me up in womens clothes
Messed around with gender roles
Dye my eyes and call me pretty

Moved out of the house, so you moved next door
I locked you out, you cut a hole in the wall
I found you sleeping next to me, I thought I was alone
Youre driving me crazy, when are you coming home

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