Make me reflective, introspective Make me the

violence, and explain my silence. Cause its never

too late to fill me with hate... So pull away, go,

make me look cool.

And she looks best, Sunday mornings, coming down.

So what will I achieve, And who should I believe.

I lick her slit, as it tightens its grip. My

drugged up kiss. So hey, have something else. Its

hard to conceal the way I feel.

And she looks best, Sunday mornings, coming down.

It seems that some wanker makes her darker Sights

her hair.