The Saints - S+M+M's lyrics

She sends me precious things with violins Her phonograph records My thoughts become disturbed they are worse than hers I'm f**in' demented The marquis de Sade could take pleasure Absurd games in all kinds of weather It's so obtuse there is no use Sometimes I think that I should know better Stick around for the nonexistent second verse A diatribe verging on the perverse The one line I'd like to cross Does not exist So neither do I Happy birthday Mr president All the best are dressed in cement I know I'm not the one to blame Sometimes I think that I should know better She sends me precious things with violence Her p**nograph records She's f**in' demented.