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Walking out of England thinking you were king |
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Taking on this world, on that bus that goes through Mexico |
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A killer love finds a sweet Mexican girl |
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But in Mississippi we rushed into the room |
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Down in Dixie you were crying for dope |
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Down in Alabama, they like home cooked fare, yeah |
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So we're gonna strap you to the frying chair, yeah |
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But I don't know what love is |
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Is there something else giving me the chills? |
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But if my hands are the color of blood |
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Then baby, I can tell ya, sure I can tell ya |
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Love kills, kills, love kills, kills |
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Do you wanna hear all the sirens |
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Of the city drown the arguing? |
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We're on Rikers Island on a population board |
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They don't care about your fame |
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But I don't know what love is |
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Is there something else giving me the chills? |
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But if my hands are the color of blood |
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Then baby, I can tell ya, sure I can tell ya |
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Love kills, kills, love kills, kills |
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On the Rio Grande they'll tie you to a tree |
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Ooh, oh, ohh, ooh, oh, ohh |
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And you can't call the lawyers |
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'Cause the whorehouse is asleep |
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Ohh, oh, ohh, ooh, oh, ohh |
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You people will get weak |
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Ohh, oh, ohh, ooh, oh, ohh |
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They'll throw you in a cell |
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Where you can barely breathe |
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Ohh, oh, ohh, ooh, oh, ohh |
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But I don't know what love is |
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Is there something else giving me the chills? |
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But if my hands are the color of blood |
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Then baby, I can tell ya, sure I can tell ya |
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Love kills, kills, love kills, kills |
