Vogue is my religion | Elite fashion http://vk.com/voguelite
I watch the work of my kin bold and boyful Toying somewhere between love and abuse Calling to join them the wretched and joyful Shaking the wings of their terrible youths Freshly dissolved in some frozen devotion No more alone or myself could I be Looks like a strain to the arms it were open No shortage of sordid, no protest from me
With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene With her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and lean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene
Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh I Lay my heart down with the rest at her feet Fresh from the fields, all feeder and fur tires Bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet
With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene With her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and lean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene
And lease this confusion, I'll wander the concrete Wonder if better now having survived Jarring of judgement and reasons defeat The sweet heat of her breath in my mouth I'm alive
With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene With her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and lean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene