I got my stitches stitched, I got my fixes fixed, In my aching head, I got my kisses slit. Our gossip lips stuttered every word I said, I said, I got your love letters, corrected the grammar and sent them back. It's true romance is dead, I shot it in the chest then in the head.
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In my aching head, I got my kisses slit.
Our gossip lips stuttered every word I said, I said,
I got your love letters, corrected the grammar and sent them back.
It's true romance is dead, I shot it in the chest then in the head.
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Rise by the hand of Milow
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