Paroles de Cinnamon

Fiending, peeking at the centerfolds Cutting tinsel into gold And hoping you won't love me still Mellow, cringing ugly fellows Mixing water into gin And chasing it with cinnamon Oh my God, kingdom wants me Marksman, shooting apples off of heads Jonesing for a cigarette With sloppy shots on purpose Keepin' tabs on all my scrimmages And crossin' out my closest friends For someone I can't recognize Oh my God, kingdom wants me Don't call it a ghost to my own God, I have a pretty life It made me cry