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And I could never tell as a kid |
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What that window door went to |
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Only told to stay away |
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I almost had an accident, age 6 |
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When I found the key in the attic |
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And now the smell of these wood frames |
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Is the only sense I've left |
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So as you pull me from the bed |
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Tell me I look stunning and cadaverous |
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And since you are my friend |
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I would ask that you lower me down slow |
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And tell the man in the black cloak |
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He doesn't need to trouble his good soul |
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With those Latin conjugations |
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And if it's all the same to them |
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You should tell your gathering friends |
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Please not to purse their faces grim |
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On such a lovely Sunday |
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Don't fix my smile, life is long enough |
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We will put this flesh into the ground again |
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Don't fix my smile, life is long enough |
|
We will put this flesh into the ground again |
|
Don't fix my smile, life is long enough |
|
We will put this flesh into the ground again |
|
Don't fix my smile, life is long enough |
|
We will put this flesh into the ground again |
|
Don't fix my smile, life is long enough |
|
We will put this flesh into the ground again |
|
Don't fix my smile, life is long enough |
|
We will put this flesh into the ground again |
