The Wytches - Track 13 lyrics

In her sunshine blouse She prefers to keep the desperate men out If I stay far away and then she'll feel okay 'Cause the smile on her face is poison In her rotary chair She's spinning too fast and it spits out her hair And she's well-known for a tendency's grown As the number on the scales shiver And we fight like the crows Shoulders, elbows All covered in blood from the phone girl's last purge Between selling me Your lover pa**ing Well I fell with no pain But it hurts just the same Annabelle's in the rain Reading those dreams for the number or names Well she comes across like an animal lost But her cage is the cleanest around And her parents hold her down in the night Before closing her eyes she said, "Everything's fine" When she next arrives with a conscience divine And a smile on her face, artificial Yes the smile on your face, artificial Well I said to her parents Running family since birth And I feel like I won Buried body in dirt on my birthday I scream "Every day's a bad dream or a story to sell but stop reading me Annabelle"