She Wears He-Harem 歌词

	作曲 : Hill, Matthews, Russell ...
	Ooh you wear your he-harem hat and a lace bib that zips up the back
	To be an '
	N' on a leash of men an endless spool of fools lick of patchwork in your new suit.
	See the stone moths that sweep up
	And your suitcase ful of new clothes
	Made of manskins and the souls that pop out.
	Ooh you wear your he-harem coat and a real dick boa wrapped around your throat
	To be an '
	X' in sexless equation bead on a spool of jewels cold backup for your crown,
	Queen. There's a suitcase ful of old robes
	And the seamster is a stone moth made of real hearts and the souls you done stole.
	Ooh you wear your he-harem dress and fake lashes lap up the mess that grows like breath within your wake coin-toss a glance back at the road of men you paved, dear.

	zuo qu : Hill, Matthews, Russell ...
	Ooh you wear your heharem hat and a lace bib that zips up the back
	To be an '
	N' on a leash of men an endless spool of fools lick of patchwork in your new suit.
	See the stone moths that sweep up
	And your suitcase ful of new clothes
	Made of manskins and the souls that pop out.
	Ooh you wear your heharem coat and a real dick boa wrapped around your throat
	To be an '
	X' in sexless equation bead on a spool of jewels cold backup for your crown,
	Queen. There' s a suitcase ful of old robes
	And the seamster is a stone moth made of real hearts and the souls you done stole.
	Ooh you wear your heharem dress and fake lashes lap up the mess that grows like breath within your wake cointoss a glance back at the road of men you paved, dear.

	zuò qǔ : Hill, Matthews, Russell ...
	Ooh you wear your heharem hat and a lace bib that zips up the back
	To be an '
	N' on a leash of men an endless spool of fools lick of patchwork in your new suit.
	See the stone moths that sweep up
	And your suitcase ful of new clothes
	Made of manskins and the souls that pop out.
	Ooh you wear your heharem coat and a real dick boa wrapped around your throat
	To be an '
	X' in sexless equation bead on a spool of jewels cold backup for your crown,
	Queen. There' s a suitcase ful of old robes
	And the seamster is a stone moth made of real hearts and the souls you done stole.
	Ooh you wear your heharem dress and fake lashes lap up the mess that grows like breath within your wake cointoss a glance back at the road of men you paved, dear.

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