Once again you're flashing me those blues and i'm remembering why i'm wasting days if i had the nerve i'd drain all your beautiful all you're good for is burning bloodstreams each movement makes music a chemical touch that would send shocks but you're destined for display only the most i could hope for is to smear the gla** these heavy fingertips leaving trails of scattered skin and cracked porcelain tell me what i haven't got because i'd k** to get it tell me what i haven't got don't tell me, he's got it who's on the receiving end of those perfect lips