Paroles de I Raise My Craving Hands

The Polaroid of perfection, demirep and stained with hate well wounded I stuttle the crowd with my vogue lack of faith the up and coming vendetta, the # vultures' extremes spruce me up with a sweet little plaything, spruce me fucking supreme I raise my craving hands, to the image of her promised land the succulent teenage cunt, tempteth me to exeunt Wish me well, wish me hell...all I ever wanted was a story to tell The absence of goals, the lack of control the absence of aim and the present fame... The absence of goals, the lack of control everyone knows I should be extolled the absence of aim and the present fame everyone would sell their souls to play this game ...it's the game we play...