I never said those things you buried Of all the liars you'll be so cynical The modern angel's so hard to come by I hate to touch your stinking cur
I don't know what you've started saying now Give me no conscience, can't listen to bodies Stay low, lock the door I know there's more than just an aching in store
I want a gun that's sexual You wanted size I'll give you a big tour Big crane grabs your brain Pain is a gas engages your force