Your last image is you seeing your wife
And i refuse to camoflauge with other guys
I have sins so my pants never had lent
And keep for your self your comment
Hundred thousand dollars and that’s on champagne
Where's your wealth? where's your fame?
My gun your scars, your wrist your calls
Huh, a metaphor of course
Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.
Fuck, clean up on aisle six
Your over worrying
Flapjack, ooh he bring
So i suggest your change your media immediately
Got me counting my blessings, it took me a-d to see
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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