You walk in like a razor blade
Cut the wounds from your mouth
You’ve got me on the edge again
You know I’d lick the blade sooner than I’d live without
Your kind of danger is a strange one
But it’s to be anticipated
When you’re as strange as demonstrated.
He’s the tongue of a butcher
To cut me down to size
But I’ve got my own sizable blade
I swallow his knife, hiding under my sleeves.
No comments:
Post a Comment