The bliss of demise closed everything
All fronts, no veneers
Words you beg will never leave my mouth
Milk me like a cow
And I never unpacked all the boxes, yeah
And my cats shit on your couch, yeah
Gates golden, swing shut
Grit my teeth, I spitspeak back
Round the corner from The Candyshop
Territorial aggression, forced emission
Where All The Girls Sing
La-La-La-Fucking-Money
And you are always out
…La-La-La-Fucking-La