u should be wilder, you're no fun at all
Yeah, thanks for the input
Thanks for the call
With dull knives and white hands
The blood of a stone
Cold to the touch, right
Right down the bone
But u give me the electric twist and it kicks like kicks like a pony
And true, u might get away with it
It's a risk, it's a risk yeah
Picked from a hot grove, packaged for sale
It drips down the sleeve
Gets under your nails
A loss of the senses
A chip off a tooth
The smells of the city
They ride in your suit
He says don't think don't talk
Don't think
Don't think don't talk
Don't think
Don't think don't talk
But I don't think...
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