We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.
/

lyrics

Lick that microphone and realise you can atone. Sister ‘Me-no-like-fire’, the ways of you are kiss and hide. You say he bled a little mess, not good enough for a second kiss. Then why’d he use a brittle fist? (Not that you know less brittle fists). He is like me in male distress, while you go sleep with the nemesis. Brakin’ bones, not being the best. Not a lot of friends just enemies, to say that you don’t wanna breed more divorces.

You’re cut…free…I see…it’s you…so chew…spit…spew…chew…spit…spew…chew…spit…spew…chew…spit…spew…chew…spit…spew…chew…spit…spew…chew…spit…spew…chew.

credits

license

all rights reserved

tags

If you like Rhys Bloodjoy, you may also like: